


Turning Points

by ASOUEfan



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Begging, Dom!Esmé, Domestic Fluff, Esme is demanding, F/F, F/M, First Love, First Time, General neglect of the orphans, Gratuitous Smut, Light Dom/sub, Minor Violence, No wonder Violet is a nice distraction, Olaf being his usual cruel self, Olaf is an inadequate lover, Ownership, Poor Esme, Violet has to learn the ropes, nothing heavy, sub!Violet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-11-24 20:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASOUEfan/pseuds/ASOUEfan
Summary: Count Olaf and Esme Squalors plan to capture the Baudelaires in the Elevator Shaft has worked. The Baudelaires and the Quagmires have lived in said Elevator Shaft for 4 years; Cleaning, drudgery, and general mistreatment abound. Violet is due to come of age any day now, but they have lost track of how long it has really been.However among it all, Esme notices Violet, and Violet notices Esme.The two women take more of an interest in each other and find pleasure in each others company.Starts light and quickly turns smutty, FYI. (Rating recently upgraded from M to E due to increased sexual content and upcoming violence (will add tags when the time comes))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a series of one shots in my head, but had blossomed into a lovely long fic instead! Characters taking control of the narrative :)

Violet sat cross legged on the marble floor, flipping the can upside down to dab another circle of brass-cleaner on to the cloth. She wiped it over the lions foot and then began rubbing it in purposeful circles, slowly making the gold-coloured metal shine anew. It was isolating being in here, the door only open a crack, but on the other hand it was sort of nice to do a different room. She had only just been tasked with cleaning and maintaining Esme’s powder room, something she could almost frame as a compliment. Esme didn't allow anyone in here normally, what with the Sugar Bowl set sitting, unmoving, on a small console table by the mirror. She had spent some time examining the set when she had first had access to the room, as if it might yield some answers to Esme’s psyche, or at the least find something that might help them. 

 

When the door banged open, making Violet jump, her eyes widened and watched as Esme stomped into the room tense and tired. She had become quite good at reading the woman’s mood, when to talk, when not to. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time could earn you more than a smack across the face. She remembered when she and Klaus were so horrified by Count Olafs actions back in his house, hitting Klaus like that in such an unpredictable manner. But now their reality had adjusted to the very real possibility of such beatings should they do - or say, the wrong thing. 

 

But sometimes, when Esme was in a more sprightly mood, she could get away with a little more conversation. 

 

The woman barely glanced at her as Violet hurried to the door to click it shut after her, returning quickly to where she had been by the bath. Esme shrugged her pinstripe blazer for and flung it over the mirror. She leant in close to one of the mirrors, examining her features for signs of stray make up, touching her hair before spraying herself in a cloud of hair spray. Violet watched her quietly, her hand still rubbing and cleaning the metal but somewhat distractedly, her eyes on Esme and not on her work. 

 

Esme altered a silver clip here, a touch to the curl of her hair that side, narrowing her eyes at herself and pulling various poses as she tilted her head this way and that in a sort of narcissistic show for herself. Something caught her eye in the mirror, and reflected back at her she could see not only the the rest of the room behind her, but a brown haired girl watching her. The feeling made Esme smirk. 

 

“See something you like, Orphan?” She asked, breaking the silence of the room while not even turning around to address her. She continued to change one set of earrings for the next, titillated by watching Violets reaction in the mirror.

 

The girl jumped in shock, fearful of being caught idle. “Sorry,” She mumbled, crouching back over her work and vigorously rubbed the foot of the bath keeping her hands busy. 

 

It made Esme feel rather gorgeous. Even the help wanted her. “Oh don’t worry its completely natural for girls your age to be jealous of their more mature, fantastically looking betters,” She taunted, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Violet, who was refusing to look up lest she get caught staring again. 

 

Violet angled her jaw. “I’m not jealous.” 

 

Satisfied her hair and make up was highlighting her already perfect features, she paced over to the chair, sitting and stretching her neck this way and that, before leaning down to undo her high heels, when her eyes snapped up to Violet again, and she paused. _What an idea._ She straightened up, posturing herself just right, and rested her hands in her lap in a neat and elegant pose. “Violet.” She prompted, holding her foot out gesturing. 

 

_What?_ Violet felt heat rise up her spine and made her cheeks bloom cherry red. She ducked her gaze, letting her hair curtain her face and hopefully mask her reaction. She grit her teeth, knowing Esme’s only goal was utterly humiliate her every chance she got, and that if she saw her blushing then it would only add to her victory. It was just, embarrassing. Wasn’t it? 

 

Violet swallowed dryly, putting her cloth and cleaning fluid down. She covered the few feet between them with her hands clinging to her sides, kneeling slowly in front of Esme to take her foot on her lap. “Careful, they're designer,” Esme snarked, leaning back and enjoying the sight of Violet Baudelaire on her knees in front of her. She seemed, so _naturally obedient,_ compared to the others _._ When Violets fingers brushed her skin, unbuckling each strap carefully and individually from the front of her foot to her ankle, Esme felt a strange sensation burn in side her. Violet slipped the shoe off and put it down next to her, looking up only to acknowledge it to Esme, who switched one foot for the other. Violet repeated the motion, care and concentration going into her work. Esme ran her tongue over the edge of her teeth, musing something over in her mind. 

 

Violet finished and put the second shoe together with the first, looking up at the woman in subtle confusion. It was the strangest request she had had off either of their captors, but had not felt as demeaning as the rest. Esme hadn’t moved her foot from Violets lap, and Violets hands were rested there on her knees, not holding but, somewhat acknowledging with her touch the fact that her foot remained there. 

 

Esme’s breath shuddered a little as she breathed out. A somewhat curious fluttering excited her nerves, and she tentatively reached out her hand toward Violet. The girl didn't move, her eyes locked with Esme’s in this unspoken moment. Esme’s hand hovered over the girls cheek, a mere inch or two from touching her, when both heard the door throw open and Esme snatch her hand quickly back. 

 

Olaf cast a sinister shadow in toe the room, adjusting his shirt sleeve and cuff link. “There you are. We’re going to be late.” He said gruffly, taking a half step forwards to peek his head round the room left and right, but careful not to break the threshold to her precious Powder Room. 

 

Esme stood and almost walked over Violet as she fetched her blazer back from the mirror, slipping her arms into it and touching his arm as she turned him from the room. “Perfection takes a minute darling.” 

 

“Whats she doing in here? I thought no-one was allowed in here.” He frowned his one long brow into a condescending glare.  

 

Esme shrugged. “She’s cleaning what does it look like.” She grasped the handle and drew the door after them, casting Violet a look she could not discern just before she shut the door fully, leaving her alone once again. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Get one of the Orphans to help you, I’m far too busy and important,” Olaf said, self proclaiming his importance as if it would elevate him just by saying it.  

 

Esme flapped her hands at him exasperated. He wasn’t taking this seriously enough, or listening to how much planning she had done to get this dinner organised. “Doing what?! Besides I don’t want them putting their dirty little hands all over me.” At least Olaf was her boyfriend, she could just about allow it, though that was not something they had done before and to something she wished to bring into their relationship. They were more, physical. Practical. Fighting, fucking, kidnapping. 

 

Olaf rolled his eyes. “I hardly expect that is their intention.” 

 

Leaving him lounging in her dressing room, Esme stalked down the corridor of identical doors to one of the spare bedrooms where Violet, Klaus and Sunny were working. She pursed her lips and scanned the room, hanging on the door handle. “I need Violet to come with me,” She announced spotting Violet perched on a footstool by the window, folding pillow cases.

 

Klaus stepped up protectively. “Why Violet?”

 

“Because I said so _Orphan_ ,” She sneered. Shifting her weight she leant her hip to one side, as she folded her hands together habitually at her waist. “You’re all a snivelling, miserable waste of space it makes no difference to me anyway,” She said, her fake smile beaming through it all.

 

Violet sighed, putting the basket down and smoothing her dress down her thighs as she stood. “I’ll go.” She pulled at the hem of it, thinking she must remind Isadora to put a new width of material around it. She was getting taller and the dress was getting shorter. 

 

Klaus shook his head defeatedly, getting back to his bed making. Esme smoothed her hand over Violets shoulder, giving it a painful squeeze, keeping her next to her as they walked back to her dressing room. “Enjoy punishment do you?”

 

Violet glared quietly. “I’d rather you hurl insults at me than my siblings, if thats what you mean.” 

 

Esme knocked her inside a step, surprised to see Olaf still there draped over her chaise lounge. “Out.” She snapped her fingers at him. He raised his eyebrow at her, unimpressed.   “I’m not having you in here while I change,” She countered, tapping his feet off the material as he swung round to sit up, nuzzling into Esme’s waist with a growl that made Violet want to throw up. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” 

 

Olaf chuckled under his breath, unable to hide that evil undertone that always made her shudder. “Fine by me,” He sauntered out, shutting the door behind him.

 

Violet clung one arm around herself awkwardly; seeing their relationship even in the smallest tactile moments was something she did _not_ want to witness. 

 

As soon as they were alone, Esme began unbuttoning her shirt and whipping it off her shoulders without a second thought to Violets presence, reaching her arms behind her for the zip of her rather form fitting pencil skirt. Violet remained rooted to the spot. This was not what she had been expecting. Esme leered at her, and clicked her fingers. “Don’t just stand there.”   

 

Violets mouth was dry. “You haven't told me to do anything.” After that moment they shared in the Powder Room, Violet had been pre-occupied with deconstructing its meaning. Being allowed in her private space, alone and trusted to clean and care over her things was in itself, a turn of events. It had been quite the gossip to the others, when she was first sent there, and she had almost enjoyed the status it brought. Their little world was a strange one. 

 

“Do I really have to be so prescriptive,” Esme barked, infuriated. She was in a rush and Violet was meant to be helping. “Drawers. Tights.” She waved her away to the chest of drawers at the left of the room, as she unclipped her bra and caught it over her front, half-turning away as she dragged the straps down her arms and changed it for a blush rose one. 

 

Violets mouth fell open slightly at the sight of her, long bare back of pale porcelain skin with only an occasional freckle. It was so, intimate. “Jesus.” 

 

“What?” Esme already held the new bra over herself as she whipped her head round hearing something from Violet. 

 

Violet shook her head quickly, rolling a drawer open and selecting the first sleek pair of tights she could see. “Nothing. Would these work?” 

 

“Darker,” Esme corrected, clipping it together and flattening the straps over her shoulder blades. Violet held a second pair aloft, to which Esme nodded. “Better.” Violet pushed the drawer shut and followed over to Esme with them holding them out, but Esme didn't take them. “Fashion and colour complementing are the basis to any important social event.” She perched herself on the Chaise and chuckled. “See Violet, all these things you could have learnt in my care?” 

 

“Shame you had to go and push us down an Elevator Shaft instead of be our Guardian then, isn't it,” Violet countered, watching Esme to make sure she hadn’t pushed it too far. The verbal parrying was a game they played, Violet needing a constructive way of getting rid of her bitterness, fed up of having to accept their situation. And Esme simply enjoyed winding her up. 

 

Esme waved the insult away. “Oh I’m still your Guardian,” Esme reiterated somewhat annoyingly. _Some Guardian,_ Violet thought, instinctively kneeling down in front of Esme with the approved stockings bunching them up in her hands to slip them over Esme’s foot, as if such acts were somewhat normal to her. “You still live here,” Esme murmured, intrigued with the ease at which Violet did it, kneeling up to draw the thin material up Esme’s calf, over her knee, straightening it out and clipping them to her garter around her thigh; before Esme had even ordered her to do so. 

 

“Thats not quite what I meant.” Violet tucked her hair behind her ears before sitting back on her haunches, awaiting instruction. She was being precocious and Esme was allowing it. She wondered why Esme was easier to deal like this, when she was on her own and not trying to be overtly spiteful.

 

Esme stood, adjusting the edges of the stockings just slightly as she fetched her dark green dress from where it hung behind the door. She unzipped it and pulled the hanger out. “Listen. I know this whole, not-being-allowed-to-leave thing is occasionally depressing, but you can at least hold the thought close that, I’m not trying to steal your money. I don't need it.” She stepped inside the dress and shimmied it up to her hips as Violet slowly rolled back up onto her feet and went over to her. She held her hair up and out the way as Violet took the hint, coming behind her to zip up the dress between her shoulders. “I’m only doing all this as a favour to Olaf and - “ 

 

Violet didn't move away. “And …?” She asked softly. 

 

Esme stepped round slowly, locking eyes with the girl. “…And because you're dreadfully fun to play with,” She admitted, leaning in to Violet then, whispering close to her ear,    “ _You_ more than the others I have to admit.” 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme steps up her demands for Violets attention

“Come on you,” Esme barked, grabbing Violet by the scruff of her neck and hauling her to her feet and out the room where she was working with Isadora and Duncan. 

Violet tumbled to fall in step next to her, abandoning her dusting cloth and her confused companions. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” Violet dared to utter, unsure where she was being led or what was at the end of it. Down one hallway and up another, Esme unlocked the Powder Room and took her inside. “I’ve already cleaned in here,” 

“Oh I didn't bring you here to clean,” Esme laughed, closing and locking the door after them, making Violet nervous. Usually the door was left partly open when she was in here alone, or at least just resting to the frame when Esme was busying herself with her makeup. But she’d never locked it with her inside. 

Violet tucked her hair behind her ears, rubbing her hands together to alleviate the tension in her body. “Then -“ 

“You’re to pour me a bath,” Esme explained, twisting her hair and pinning it up out of the way in an easy practiced motion, as if going about her usual routines hardly accounting for her companion. 

Violet knitted her brow considering the request. Not that she was ever going to disobey her but, it was the meaning and the context that Violet found intriguing. “Uh, o-kay,” She agreed, losing herself in the thoughts that had plagued her over the last few weeks. What was Esme up to? Was there a reason she kept her around? And why did she catch her herself so often thinking about her? Violet frowned to herself as she shook her head, opening up the taps to full, water gushing out into the bath and filling it up with warm steaming water. “Do you want one of these oils? Which one is _in_ enough this week?” Violet quirked an eyebrow, but then instantly regretted it. 

Esme reprimanded her with a tap of her fingers on the girls cheek, pointing and giving her a look. “Don’t be smart.” Esme unwound the cord of her bathrobe and let it fall off her shoulders to the floor. Violets breath caught in her throat, a tension that didn't escape Esme’s notice. She took a step closer to Violet, enjoying how the sight of her could shut the girl up on the spot. It was thrilling and glorious. She tapped the girl under the chin to catch her eye, quirking an eyebrow. “ _Now_ do you see something you like Baudelaire?” She chuckled darkly, waving her body slowly as she shimmied out her panties. 

Violet dug her fingernails into her palms, biting her lip and forcing herself to look away. It was too much, it was too overt. What was she doing? She couldn't possibly - yes she had been distracted lately, preoccupied with working out the woman’s intentions but, thats all it was. Scholarly intrigue and the need to find an answer. She felt Esme step up as close as she could to her, her voice low and husky. “And for your information its Rosehip,” She breathed, placing a small vial in her hand. 

Violet nodded silently, the proximity of Esme to her more than short circuiting the questions she had held onto. She unscrewed the metal cap and doused the water with a few drops of the essential oil. Esme just smiled, having achieved the effect she wanted. _Utter and willing obedience_ , she mused. She bent down to test the water with a trickle of her fingers, and nodded to Violet to turn off the taps, which she did without need for instruction. It didn't take much to trip Violet over into this mindset, it seemed. 

Esme lifted one leg stepping into the bath, her long lithe frame elegantly slipping below the water line, the bath plenty large and deep enough to submerge the entirety of her. Violet released a tightly held breath and managed to shake off the disconcerting sense of happiness and euphoria that Esme seemed to elicit in her. 

“What else do you need?” She said, her words stumbling a little. 

“Aren’t you the considerate one hmm?” Esme played her fingers on the surface of the water, drawing circles and smirking at Violets attempts to keep her features emotionless.  

Violet shrugged, holding her arms tightly around herself. “Better to ask you now than be called back.” She didn't want to look at Esme, naked in the water. She didn't want to be here and be part of this, absurd routine Esme had going on. 

Except she did. She was in here, alone with her, part of her routine now, perhaps, and seeing her both literally and figuratively in a way the others did not. It made her feel, _special._  

“Back? Darling you’re not going anywhere,” Esme laughed, gesturing to a stool across the floor. Violet fetched it dutifully, drawing it up close to the edge of the bath where Esme was waving her well manicured fingers, and just as she sat down, felt Esmes hand cup her cheek. The sudden touch she had been so unsure of before was this time, freely given. Esme oozed confidence, even naked as she was in a hot bath she superseded anything Violet had dared to imagine. Not that she had been imagining _anything_ as much as this. “I told you you were keeping me company and I meant it.” She smirked, tapping Violets hand and letting herself fall back in the water. Resting her head on the roll of the bath, she closed her eyes and let her body relax to the warmth. “Tell me, what bra size are you?”

“I’m sorry?” Violet blinked, instinctively folding her arms over her chest, despite the fact Esme had her eyes shut. It was just, intrusive. So why did her heart beat a little quicker?

“You heard me.” Esme continued, lifting one leg out of the water to stretch it up in the air, slowly and athletically bringing it down to rest her ankle out over the edge of the tub. “And don't be modest, I’ll know if you're lying. I have an eye for these things.” 

Violet blushed, tucking her hands under her thighs on the stool, curling self conscious and small. “A… 34B,” She admitted, trying to sound sure of herself. “At least, I was last time I was measured. Its been a while.” 

The woman laughed, her hand splashing the water carelessly. “Ha! I bet ill-fitting undergarments was the last thing on your mind when your contemplated your formative years spent in my Elevator Shaft.” 

“To be honest I didn't think we would here that long,” Violet murmured, remembering how they had been at the beginning of their ordeal. So full of hope, so sure that any day it would be over. That they would escape, that someone would turn up looking for them, even that Mr Poe would check in and demand to see them. But all that was a long time ago, and though Duncan had attempted to keep a track of the days, and then months, it soon became their new normal to be making breakfast or mopping floors, or running baths.

“You really thought you’d escape?” Esme queried, almost a touch of pity in her voice. She scoffed, wondering what it was about Violet that made her _almost_ care about such things. She didn't care how Violet felt, or what she wanted. Esme was working on getting what _she_ wanted, and that was far more important. 

“To start with,” Violet accepted weakly. “I owe it to my siblings to -“

“You don't owe anyone, _anything_ Violet. Thats just the guilt they want you to feel,” Esme cut in, holding on to the edge of the tub to sit forwards, guaranteeing her Violets full attention. “If someones offering you the cake damn well eat the cake, thats what I say.” She said, with a recklessness that Violet could only admire. She would never be so obviously selfish as to take what she wanted without thought or abandon. Everything in her world was carefully considered and thought through, such freedom as being able to act and want freely seemed so alien to her. She was the eldest; and even before they lost their parents, she had still been responsible for them. “I see something I want, I take it,” Esme whispered, inching herself closer to Violet, letting her eyes trail obviously down Violets neck.

Violet felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her skin prickling in a heady mix of attraction, and risk. “What is it that you want?” She murmured, her gaze settling on Esme’s lips, her jaw, her dark captivating eyes. 

“Right now?” Esme quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering if she would be able to push Violet a little further, position her where she wanted her. “I want your fingers inside me. Think you can manage that Orphan?” 

Violet balked. “I -“ 

“Floored you there haven't I.” Esme laughed haughtily, letting herself slip back down to rest  against the back of the bath. “Go on. In a bath is the best time to practice,” She goaded, absolutely serious. “Unless you and that Quagmire girl have been practicing but lets be honest she’s hardly got your looks,” Esme commented insultingly, kicking Violets protective drive in gear. Tearing her eyes from the woman, she pressed her palms harder on the stool. _It wasn’t an insult. It was a compliment._  

“No! I’ve never …,” She shook her head, trailing off shyly. There were few occasions she had even thought about what it would be like, with _anyone_. What would her first time be like? What were teenage girls doing, that she was missing out on because of her situation? Would she be dating boys or forming little friendships with them, letting them hold her hand or touch her hips or announce to her parents she had her first boyfriend and extol the virtues of his achievements, his intelligence, and and feel like she really starting to enter into that next phase of her life, as the eldest and now growing up Baudelaire sibling. 

She had not thought about her first sexual experiences to be with a grown woman, and not Esme Squalor.  

Esme’s mouth fell open. “Not even on yourself?” Well this was going to be more fun that she had first thought. “Oh, my precious little thing,” She cooed, beckoning her forwards and reaching for the girls hand. “Give me your hand.” Violet did as she was told, letting Esme guide her hand into the water, and found herself stroking Esme’s soft skin on her inner thigh. She had to kneel up on the stool to be able to arch her body over and let Esme guide her. “Let me show you,” She purred, turning her hand round behind Violets, positioning her just right so when she pulled her closer, her fingers moving to her centre, she slipped the girls fingers inside her displacing the water. Violet gasped a couldn't help but jerk back a bit, but Esme’s held onto her wrist tightly. 

She manipulated Violets hand, moving her in and out in slow sensual thrusts. She arched her back a little, urging her hips onto the girls hand and nudging her for more. Violet watched the delight rip through her body, a euphoric sort of smile on Esme’s lips as she fucked herself with Violets hand. Violet found the rhythm of her movements and hesitantly began a few twitches of her fingers, playing them inside Esme, smiling to herself when she could see the effects flitter across Esme’s features. She angled her hand and pushed harder into her, and Esme nodded, her grip loosening around Violets wrist as she got the hang of it. “Good girl…,” She praised, spurring Violet on. Although she didn't know what she was doing, or working for, she could quickly see what movements Esme reacted to, and how when she worked a little harder, Esme gave in a little more each time. 

Esme released her hand letting her go it alone, needing to float her hand down between her legs as well to find her clit and give herself the final push of stimulation she needed. Between the vigorous rubbing of her clit, and the hard thrusting of Violets fingers, she tensed, laughing softly as she came in the water.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

Olaf laughed as Duncan burst up from the bucket of water coughing, but with nothing in his mouth. “You’ve got to try a little harder than that if you’re going to eat this week!” He chortled, clapping the boy on the back, enjoying himself greatly. Duncan knelt opposite Klaus, either side of a large bucket. Both had their hands tied behind their back, and were only in their jeans with bare chests and bare feet looking more like kidnap victims than ever before. Klaus had at least managed to tuck his glasses in his pocket, so on one hand he knew they were safe and unlikely to break during Count Olafs sadistic games, but on the other hand, his vision was kind of blurry. It really didn't improve his chances of success. 

Esme was lounging on the other side of the room, her legs drawn up on the sofa, her elbow leaning on the arm rest holding her arm up at an angle, in that way haughty women of high society do. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase bobbing for apples?” She smirked, laughing at their ineptitude. She wouldn't go so far as to say she would bother going to such lengths herself, just to see them suffer, but watching from afar safe out of splashing distance was acceptable. 

Klaus ground his teeth. “These aren’t apples, they're an assortment of random vegetables that don't all float - “

“Thats why you have to really get stuck in there Or-phan!” Count Olaf circled them threateningly, acting a pretend show of who-was-he-gonna-grab, lunging at Klaus mockingly and laughing when the boy flinched. Instead he went for Duncan, taking a fistful of the boys brown hair. “Go on boy!” He yelled and shoved his head into the water. This was fantastic, the power, the enjoyment, the flailing desperation of the boy as he kept him under and kept him under. 

Klaus watched on anxiously, staring across the room at Esme imploringly. Willing her to intervene was likely only wishful thinking, but perhaps she could temper Olaf’s viciousness. “He cant breathe!” 

Count Olaf sighed, uninterested. “Oh please it’s really not a problem if he asphyxiates I still have his sister and I only need one of them to get my hands on their shiny shiny sapphires,” His eyes glowed with the mere thought of them, and laughed evilly. 

Esme pursed her lips. “Darling he’s getting water all over the floor - “

“Like a wet fish.” Olaf finally relented, shifting his weight back to let Duncan pull out the water, the cold water pouring off him and draining from his soaking wet hair. The boy coughed and spluttered desperately catching his breath, barely aware of his surroundings when he felt Olaf’s foot collide against his side and kicking him to the floor. With the floor so slippery and no hands to break his fall, Duncan hit his shoulder hard, making him wince in pain. 

Count Olaf danced and sidestepped his way over to the cabinet to turn the tap and fill his glass with some more ‘trunk wine’, something Esme could never entertain drinking. He hummed a merry sort of tune feeling literally and figuratively on top of the world, being allowed to practice his many mad-hatter tricks on the children with no-one to stop him, the Beard and the Hair were both pleased with his progress in capturing said children, and all of this with a beautiful girlfriend watching on. His chest growled, thinking of all the victory sex he would have with her tonight. 

Violet walked into the Games room with two rectangular platters of food balanced in her hands, one of savoury mini baked items, one of cut-up fruit. Esme clocked her presence straight away, eyes widening. She did not need Violet getting on Count Olaf’s nerves right now. “Sweetheart - “ She called, but Violet didn't hear her. 

She was horrified with what she saw; her brother and best friend tied up like castaways taken by some folktribe, stripped to their waists and what looked like, some horrible torture Count Olaf had cooked up for them that involved, partial drowning and a basket of vegetables…for which she did not want to know their purpose. “Klaus!” She shouted, “Duncan!” What fresh hell was he putting them through?

Count Olaf rejoined at the sight of his once bride, toasting her with his glass of Merlot and sauntering in her direction. “Aha, a third member of the troupe, how perfect, come and join _you always were the pretty one_.”  

She practically dropped the platters as she slid them onto the coffee table next to Esme, dashing to help them, not even registering Olaf’s threats. Esme shot forwards and snatched her wrist tightly in her grip, hauling her back. “Esme let go!” She yelled, needing to help her brother. 

Esme took her shoulder in the other hand and held her back to her taller body, whispering close to her ear. “You cant help them.” She punctuated her words slowly and sternly. “So sit down.” She ordered, forcing Violet to sit down next to her and not letting go of her wrist until she felt Violets body release and accept her being in charge of her. 

Olaf clapped his hands together and beckoned her. “Violet get over here I’m changing up the game!” 

The girl shifted in her seat and looked at Esme for direction. She didn't want to just sit there and do nothing, but maybe Esme was right. Trying to rush to her friend and brothers aide and untie his likely ineffective knots would only enrage Count Olaf. She silently implored Esme to say something. She couldn’t obey both of them. “Violets busy get a different Orphan to torment,” Esme said finally. Violet felt at least a little protected, Esme’s hand resting on her leg poignantly, the other passing her something from hidden behind a cushion. “Something for you,” She offered quietly, her full attention on Violet and blatantly ignoring Count Olaf’s inane rhymes he was making up and singing at high volume in the background. 

Violet felt her stomach clench. “What is it?” 

The woman hummed excitedly, pleased with the faint blush she saw grace Violets cheeks.“A surprise. I thought it might help you out for next time,” She said cryptically. She had never really given someone a gift before, other than when she was younger and it was the socially enforced norm at society birthdays. She never saw the need for it, when one is so extraordinarily wealthy, what can someone possibly buy you, and why waste your money on anyone other than yourself? But she had wanted to give Violet something, by way of a thank you for her efforts the other night in the Powder Room, and was surprised by the thrill she felt in watching the girl open it. 

Carefully ripping the paper open, Violet found it was a book. A rather adult book that would not belong in any library she had frequented to date. She turned it over inquisitively, finding a blurb of the story on the back cover.  

“Thought you might like it,” Esme murmured, touching a lock of Violets hair away from her face. She was obviously curious, Esme mused, and not at all scared off by the contents. “Probably too much for your friends though, I mean look at them. They’re sort of pathetic.” Esme said a little cruelly, shooting a glance over at the shivering and wet boys. “Not a young woman like you with so many adventures ahead of her.” It had been meant as a compliment, a way to show her how much more she thought of Violet, that she wasn’t necessarily just a pesky Orphan anymore but someone Esme… enjoyed having around. But the worry Violet held in her eyes at mention of her brothers plight made Esme only roll hers in disgust. 

Count Olaf had stomped over, frustrated at the slacking entertainment and Violets refusal to obey his commands. He grabbed the sleeve of her dress, wrenching her from Esme and to her feet, only to throw his arm out and smack her hard across the chin. “Thats what you get for not listening to me!” He barked. “Come when I call you Orphan.” He berated, only to take a swig of wine and lazily look the girl up and down, with far too obvious an intent that made Violet turn her head away in disgust.

That was far more than Esme was was willing to tolerate from him, Merlot or not Merlot. She stepped a pointy stilleto’d heel between the two of them and curled an arm in front of Violet, tucking the girl behind her somewhat. “My, Orphan,” She cautioned, with her voice dark and husky. She was between them then, nose to nose with Olaf and narrowing her eyes. She didn't move or turn around as she bid Violet to sit back down. “Read your book Darling.”

Violet’s hand unconsciously found its way to Esmes waist, not sitting down, instead tucking her fingers inside the woman’s belt and hugging herself close to her. She’d rather take her chances staying close to Esme; she hadn’t round reason to doubt her so far, though her demands had been more unorthodox of late, the turn of events wasn’t altogether unpleasant and Esme had been almost, _kind_. She swallowed and replied quietly, hoping to appeal to her. “Its a little hard to give it my full attention.”

Esme angled her jaw and flicked her eyes down Count Olaf disapprovingly. “You’re right. The company in here is getting a little uncivilised.” She unhooked Violets hand from her thin leather belt but kept a hold of it, taking Violet along with her as she walked away. “Lets go.” Her heels clacked on the marble echoing around the room as she left an infuriated Olaf standing there, minus the one Orphan who could’ve made his scheme a triumph.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Esme arched her neck and stared at the ceiling as she rocked her hips forward and back, his cock thrusting strongly inside her with each movement. He dug his fingers into her ass and tugged at her hips, moving her with the motion and concentrating on pummelling her hard. She had denied him earlier and acted like she actually _cared_ about Violet Baudelaire which was ridiculous, why would she provoke him unless it was for her own fun and satisfaction. He was happily fucking her now and making sure he took what he needed. She was his girlfriend after all, and as far as he was concerned, thats what she was there for. 

Not a hair moved out of place as she bobbed up and down, trying to create more friction, more heat, more … anything. She wasn’t getting as wound up as she would like and his grunts sounded as if he was nearing his end. She bent over and dragged her nails down his chest with a growl, making him move his hands from her hips up her back, and quicker than she realised what he was doing, bucked his hips and flipped them over, tossing her onto her back. She gasped in surprise and the loss of control over the rhythm, feeling him enter her again, looping his arms under her thighs and ass to pull her toward his own hips, smacking himself into her selfishly. She tossed her head back on the pillow, and closed her eyes, trying to grind her hips against the more sensitive nub inside her centre but he was relentless. He grabbed a handful of her breast and squeezed hard, his force of it made her wince a bit but she held onto a fistful of sheet and arched her back against him. She could feel his cock growing as he threw his weight behind a heady final thrust, but jerked suddenly back and grabbed a hold of himself as he slipped out, spilling himself all over her abdomen with a groan. He sighed, sweaty and content as he climbed off her, cricking his neck this way and that. 

Esme flapped her hands on the bed and sat up. “Seriously?” She complained, leaning over the side of the bed for some garment or other and using it to wipe the cum off her stomach and chest. It was all slimy and stuck on her fingers as she tried to clean herself down, feeling like this level of gross was really not worth the effort. “Darling.” She tried to catch his attention as he stood, appearing to forget all about her. “Darling where are you going I’m not finished,” She puffed, sitting up properly and pulling her knees up to her chest. 

He took his cock in his hand giving it a shake off and ignoring her. “Well I am. _Finished_ ,” He retorted coolly, swinging round to push his face right into hers and snarl. “All over you.”

Esme took a deep breath and shrieked in disbelief. “I am not a woman to be trifled with Olaf! Now you get yourself back over here and finish the job or … or _I don't know what I’ll do,_ ” She finished in resentful husky breaths, trying her best to intimidate him with her anger and frustration. 

He just tossed his head back and laughed at her. “You never know what you're _going to do,”_ He mocked, totally unthreatened and rolling his eyes. “I need a drink. And a pretzel.” He headed for the door and turned the handle swinging the black painted wood open and letting it bang carelessly. 

“But _DARLING_!” She yelled after him.

His evil laugh echoed down the hallway as he waltzed out the room and down the hall, completely and utterly naked, feeling altogether good about himself. He got to live here in this posh fucking Penthouse even if it was _hers_ , why shouldn't he treat it as his own and walk around naked if he wanted to? Who would stop him? The thought of such freedom filled his chest with a satisfied air, turning left down the hallway junction, only to bump into Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. 

The trio leapt in shock, Klaus hurriedly clamped his hand over Sunnys eyes before she got traumatised and Violet spun away, staring at the join of where the carpet connected to the skirting board and tried to workout what grain the wood was. Anything to not think about Count Olaf right behind her, and naked. 

“Hello, hello, hello ….,” Olaf muttered in pleasure. What a pretty sight? Three frightened Orphans had come along to keep him in good spirits. 

Violet cleared her throat managing only a small and barely polite reply. “Hello.” 

Olaf inched behind her, his body nudging up against hers so much she had to put her hand out on the wall to stop from being pushed forwards. She ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Surely he wouldn't try anything with the others here? He might take her off somewhere to play his silly games but not here. He reached gently up and stroked her hair away from her shoulder, twisting it around hid fingers as he leant in close, burying his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. “Isn’t it a shame we never got to consummate our marriage,” He moaned softly against her ear, “The things, I could do to you.” 

Violet pressed her palm against the wall as leverage to shove herself back and knock him away. “You’re disgusting,” She hissed, using the momentary space to break away and into a run, Klaus and Sunny following swiftly behind.     

The sudden movement past the door made Esme sit up again. “Violet is that you?!” She called out from the bedroom, making the girl career to a halt, and her siblings almost run into her. 

Klaus was confused, checking behind him to make sure Count Olaf was gone and they were sufficiently safe to be stopping. “What is it? Violet is everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yes I just thought I heard - “

Esme’s voice came beckoningly down the hallway at them. “Violet!” 

“Esme.” Klaus confirmed, as they walked slowly back to the open doorway in assumption that it was there that she was waiting. 

They three of them appeared in the doorway in a row; Klaus once again quickly covering Sunnys eyes, for Esme was lain out on the bed with little in the way of clothing or covering.   “I said Violet! Not all of you!” Esme snapped, bunching the sheet over herself and waving Klaus and Sunny out. 

The siblings frowned at each other, Klaus hefting their younger sister from one hip to the other. Violet gave him a small smile and kissed Sunnys head. “I’ll meet you back in the laundry room in a bit.” 

He half turned his body to he could murmur to Violet without their Guardian noticing. “Are you sure?” He wasn’t convinced at leaving Violet alone. There had been an unusual amount of work that Violet had to do for Esme recently, and it was getting suspicious.

Violet half-smiled, trying to reassure him. As much as she didn't want to tell him the whole truth of their encounters, she kind of wanted someone to talk to about it. There were times Esme was kind, protective, and generous in her praise. She wanted him to see that side of her, for every time Klaus or one of their friends bad-mouthed her, Violet felt like she should be defending her. But they wouldn't understand. Violet flicked her gaze over to Esme, who was staring daggers at Klaus, though Violet couldn't see it. When Esme shifted her stare to Violet, their eyes met, and her features relaxed. “She’s not that bad.” 

Klaus nodded in acquiescence, and left with Sunny. Violet pressed the door shut until the mechanism clicked, and turned round to face Esme. She leant against the door with her hands in the side pockets of her dress, sensing her own body relax, feeling safer when she was with her. As if it was only in these moments that she could forget about Count Olaf and their horrible situation for a while. 

Esme dragged the sheet around her as she slid to the edge of the bed and got up. “God I’m so glad you’re here…,” She thankfully accepted Violets offer of a dressing gown, dropping the sheet to instead slide her arms into the silk gown and tying it round her waist.   

“Is everything alright?” Violet asked carefully, unsure how to express her concern for the woman, who rarely her guard slip enough to show if she was upset. “I saw Count Olaf …” Her features twisted as she trailed off, staring back at the door and the empty hallway as though it contained the visual memory of the man and in some way haunted her. “In a way I didn’t _want_ to … _ever_.. see Olaf…,” She trailed off, heading across the room slowly without direction, but simply seeing what Esme needed without her saying so. She felt a sort of pride in being able to read Esme a little better each day, like a project she eagerly wanted to get better at. 

Esme watched Violet cross the room and pour her a tumbler of sparkling water with a slice lemon cut onto the edge of the glass. “Careful pet, he is still my boyfriend,” She chided her, somewhat bitterly at such a statement. Violet offered her the glass and Esme rewarded her with a touch to her cheek. “Even if he's being totally inadequate and selfish at the moment,” She muttered, wishing the glass was vodka and not just sparkling water as she refreshed herself.  

“Did, something happen?” Violet had not heard her so obviously insult Count Olaf. And she had seemed so desperate for Violet to come in and stay with her; it was not difficult to suspect Count Olaf of wrong-doing toward Esme. 

Esme huffed, not really understanding where Violets concern was coming from. “Happen?”  She casually waved it off, nodding a little at the bed as if it should be obvious. “We had sex darling.”

“Oh…,” Violet felt more than a bit stupid. “Well yes but I meant - “

Esme tilted her head and idly ran a single long nail down Violets neck to the neckline of her dress and the buttons down the girls chest, not being that attentive to what Violet was saying. “Hmm?” Her mind was already on new things, such as the possibilities that were opening up to her with a shy but willing Violet. 

“I thought, he might have… hurt you,” Violet said defensively. “He’s generally unpredictable and cruel and …,”  

She felt Esme’s finger press to her lips to quieten her. “You’re actually serious aren't you? You really thought …,” Esme’s mouth was agape, she couldn't believe that she had endeared herself so to Violet in the last few weeks that the girl actually, _cared_ for her. It was almost, touching. She had underestimated the bond forming between them, and though she could deny to herself that it was all just a bit of fun, Violets attachment was becoming more obvious. “Darling Olaf couldn't hurt me, he might be good at kidnapping Orphans but on other fronts I am starting to wonder.”   

Violet wanted to laugh, for it would have been funny if it she were not one of the Orphans in the exact kidnapping situation Esme was referencing. “Well, then I’m glad.” She hurried off the subject, feeling a little sheepish for making such a big deal of it. Taking a quick breath in and trying to be playful, she batted Esme’s hip a little, a hopeful smile on her lips.  “And, I won’t forget what you did for me yesterday.”  

The attempt didn't go unnoticed by Esme. How _adorable_. She grabbed a hold of Violets hand and made her take her hip properly, keeping her hand over Violets and shimmying herself closer. “I meant what I said too. You’re _my_ pet Orphan. I’m not going to let him get his probably unwashed hands on you, not when _your_ hands are so useful to me.” Confident she wouldn't move away, Esme left her hand and instead reached up to toy with the button at the neck of Violets dress. 

Violet recoiled a little, snapping her hand away and folding her arms self consciously. Is that what Esme thought of her? She wasn’t sure if thats the idea she was going for. But then, what was she wanting? Could she be affronted by Esme’s name calling when, it was sort of fitting? “I’m nobody’s ‘ _pet Orphan’_ , Esme.”

Esme tugged Violet to her, her force dominating, and her confidence intoxicating. “Yes you are,” Esme purred, walking them both over to the bed until Violet felt it behind her legs and almost fell onto it. “Now get those fingers of yours in here,” Esme commanded, the flowing material of the gown parting as she lifted her thigh to kneel on the bed, climbing up to straddle Violets lap.   

Violet shimmied up the bed as Esme crawled over her, settling herself on the girls hips and taking her wrist purposefully. “Wasn’t he just …,” Violet trailed off, not wanting to explain her thought process, that having her fingers were Olafs …where Olaf had just been was sort of nauseating to think about, if one thought about it closely. 

“And now he's gone and I need _you_ to do what you learnt the other night in the bathtub,” Esme ordered her, shifting her hips forwards to rock herself gently against the fully-clothed Violet. “Darling, be honest…it’s not as though you’ve been able to concentrate anything since,” She smirked wickedly. Violet couldn't contend with that statement, but was a little put out that her deepest, troubling thoughts had been so obviously laid bare by the woman who herself caused them. 

She stared up at Esme, looking strangely angelic from this angle. Tall and fawn like with those long gangly limbs, flowing blonde hair and a half parted silk dressing gown, she had never beheld such a sight. “You were mesmerising,” Violet whispered, a shameful blush ghosting her cheeks and making her look away. She shouldn't be looking at her so. Thinking of her in this way when she was the maker of so many cruelties in the life of her and her siblings and friends. 

But like this, she was different, Violet reasoned. 

Esme turned Violets gaze back to her with a well placed finger on a jaw. “And you can have me again,” She encouraged, leaning down to purr it again Violets lips, never write making contact. “You just have to have the confidence to take me.” She slowly unwound the rope of her silk dressing gown and shed it entirely, removing her long fingers from Violets wrist, leaving it between her thighs with an expectant glint in her eyes. 

Her fingers trembled. “I don’t….,” She mumbled, locked in the gaze of the woman sitting over her that she felt almost disconnected from her body. Her cupped hand made contact over Esmes centre, but quickly retreated, hesitant. “Tell me what to do.” 

Esme laughed darkly, sitting back up and manoeuvring Violets hand where it needed to be.“Violet Baudelaire you will put your fingers inside me … like this,” she started, forcing Violets wrist at the right angle so she could straighten her fingers up, and sit onto her them, easing her fingers right up inside of her with a satisfied moan. “Now thrust until you are rewarded with something warm and sticky on said fingers at which point you will pull them out and lick them clean for my enjoyment.” She tested her hips this way and that, feeling Violets fingers inside her and where they reached and touched, knowing this encounter was important if she was going to teach Violet what she wanted. “Clear enough for you?” Esme snarked, noticing the promising fact that not once had Violet tried to move her hand away, or take her fingers out. “Then begin.” 

Violet swallowed nervously. She knew there was a lot riding on this, not least Esme herself -  the thought almost made Violet laugh; but the woman’s slowly blossoming tenderness toward Violet would depend on this. If Violet were to ever ask for … something, _anything_ to make their lives easier, it depended on Esme having a soft spot for her. That was what Violet wanted to concentrate on, the practicalities and potential benefits of such an alliance, if she could call it that - what should she call this? It wasn’t a friendship, as such. Esme was still awful to the others and didn't seem to care what Olaf did to them either, but it didn't stop Violet selfishly appreciating the kindness towards her. 

She moved her fingers in and out, remembering how Esme had enjoyed it in the bath, and what she had responded to. Violet flicked her fingers against Esme’s walls as she thrust, every so often catching a flicker of a gasp from Esme which spurred her on. Esme swayed her body back and for as Violet slowly fucked her, a sensuality to it that she wasn’t used to - Olaf never paid such attention. But Violet was an attentive lover, and _wanted_ to do a good job, it seemed. She arched her back and leant her hands on Violets thighs allowing Violet a higher sort of angle, groaning as Violet responded, sitting up and holding onto Esmes thigh to keep herself up and work her fingers deeper, curling them making Esme stutter her words. “Fu-uck … good _God_ yes,” She licked her lips at the delicious feelings. “Harder …,” She ordered, really moving against Violets whole hand now, her orgasm building. 

“Like - this?” Violet tried her best to please her, but her wrist was kind of cramping and it was more awkward like this than in the bath; the angle of being underneath her made it harder. 

Esme lurched forwards and grabbed Violets other hand ripping it from her thigh and shoving it between her legs too, making Violets eyes widen. What more could she want? But Esme didn't wait a second. “Here - right here - “ She urged desperately, parting her folds herself and directing Violets hand towards her clit. “Make it snappy! Fuck!” She threw her head back with a hiss as Violet found her clit. 

“Here?” Violet checked, an anxious twinge to her voice. She still was really fishing around in the dark and had very little detail when it came to … _sex,_ and Esme wasn’t being particularly clear, seeing as she was busily focusing on her own needs. But the way Esme threw her head back was a good sign, and it filled Violet with a strange sense of pride that she could create such sensations in the woman. For all her cruelty and glamour, she needed intimacy too, she needed to feel better about herself, and Violet knew if she could become the bearer of that, she would secure her position in Esme’s affections and they would have a much better chance of getting out of that Elevator Shaft.  

“Yes there! Right there!” Esme growled, moving Violets fingers faster over her clit to give her the idea, her whine getting higher and higher pitched until she tensed, falling silent though her mouth was open, tightening her Violets fingers inside her, and shuddered hard. 

Violet smiled quietly to herself, feeling the promised squeeze of Esmes walls over her fingers, dousing her digits in silky sticky fluid. She remembered Esme’s earlier command, and slowly slid them out of her. Esme twitched as she did so, heaving a tight breath as she climbed off the girl and fell into a sweaty mess of limbs next to Violet. Her eyes shut for a few minutes as her breathing came back down to normal, and Violet just lay there staring at the ceiling wondering what happened now. Should she get up? Leave Esme to it? She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about, _cuddling_. Isn't that what people did after sex? Esme simply didn't seem the type. 

“You’re quite good at taking instruction, did you know that?” Esme murmured, rolling onto her back with a lazy sort of smile.   

Violet felt vindicated at her efforts, and her cheeks warmed from the fluttering in her belly at the compliment. “From you it, it doesn’t exactly feel like work,” Violet replied softly, with a sincerity and vulnerability she hadn’t expected to let Esme see. But, this moment lying together on the bed, made it feel, sort of natural. She turned her head and gazed at the woman. 

Esme gazed back, reading Violets intentions in her eyes. In a surprise move, she leant over and pressed her lips to Violets, kissing her, in a tender sort of exploration. Violet froze, her heart rate suddenly spiking. _What?_ She didn't understand. But her lips were warm and velvety smooth and it was nice, and she touched a hand to Esme’s cheek and tentatively, daringly, kissed her back. 

A single thought formed in Esme’s mind, as their kiss broke and Violet self consciously looked away, unsure if she could admit how good it had felt. 

_Gotcha._


	6. Chapter 6

 

Esme’s 71 bedroom Penthouse was well, large; so it required a system to keep track of which rooms had been cleaned and when, otherwise one might get left or forgotten about, only to be found again months later with a thick layer of dust that made everyones work harder. So between them, the Quagmires and the Baudelaires created a shift system that meant each room had a once-over every few weeks and ensured that although their jobs list was long and never-ending, it should never be too strenuous either. 

It also meant, at any given time it didn't matter which one of them started working in the morning, for they would know where the others have left off. Esme and Olaf made sure never to have them all out at once - _power in numbers_ and all that, for if at least half were stuck in the Elevator Shaft then that one or two that were somewhere in the Penthouse working, wouldn't try to scheme or run and leave the others behind. 

Isadora and Duncan had volunteered for this morning, leaving Violet to rest, and Duncan and Sunny working on some wooden toy project they were doing together. 

“Do you want some of this? I think I’ve made too much,” Isadora said, stirring the scrambled eggs. _Egg whites only!_ Esme had snapped at her from the bedroom, as if she hadn't made her scrambled eggs a hundred times before. The woman’s fascination on maintained her figure was an obsession Isadora couldn't work out. She wondered if thats the sort of thing she would be worrying about in 10 years, or if thats what all grown ups were like. She had sort of forgotten what other people were like, they had been there so long. 

Klaus shook his head. “Better not. They’d figure it out somehow,” He said diplomatically. 

“How? They're both in bed and miles away from this kitchen. They probably don't even know which kitchen we’re in,” argued Isadora. She opened the cupboards and took a small side plate for Klaus, scooping some of the eggs onto it. She pushed the plate over to him with a smile. 

“Alright then,” Klaus laughed, reaching for a fork from the holder and scooping up the fresh breakfast into his mouth with gusto. It made her feel better, being able to look after him a bit. She was acutely aware he was the only boy she wasn’t related to and perhaps that was the reason for it, but she liked spending time with Klaus on his own. He was intelligent, and a good listener. 

Isaodra plated up the rest and cut up the tomatoes, cucumber, and other particulars Esme always wanted, arranging them tidily on the larger plate. “Have you noticed?” 

“Mmhm?” Klaus mumbled through a mouthful of egg.

“Violet seems extra tired at the moment. She was out so late last night,” Isadora worried, folding up the knife and fork neatly in a cotton napkin for Esme. 

Klaus nodded in agreement. “I had. Even when she is with us, she seems a bit, preoccupied.” He finished his breakfast and slid off the stool to rinse the plate quickly and put it back before he could be caught. “Do you want me to do the pan?” He pointed at the frying pan before turning the tap off, and she nodded in confirmation. He squirted some washing up bubbles onto it and let it soak in the sink for a few minutes.

“Have you spoken to her?” Isadora turned watching him. She played with the ends of her long tawny hair, her eyes lazily falling down his back, his ass; and she quickly folded her arms looking away. 

“No, you?” He asked back, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans to dry them. He came back and stood next to her, sensing she needed to talk about something.  

“I think I know what it is but I haven't wanted to bring it up,” Isadora admitted. “Its cowardly of me I know.”

Klaus rubbed her arm reassuringly. “Not at all. But sometimes it helps if you share whats bothering you.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, then lightly placed his hand over her, imploring her to unburden herself. 

“Well, we’ve been here a long time. _Years_ now. I mean, think about it. She must be turning 18 soon. Then whats going to happen to all of you?” The question hung silently in the room for a few minutes; it wasn’t as though Klaus hadn’t thought of this himself, many times over. 

“You’re right,” said Klaus thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should hold a meeting. All of us, tonight. If things are going to come to a head soon then we need to be ready.” He wasn’t sure what that plan would be or how they could try something again, when there hadn’t been much effort into escape planning for some time. It used to be all they thought of, the very idea of it, the hope that kept them going. But time wore on and every day they were thrown or tossed or kicked back into that dark dark holding cell and somewhere along the line, the started painting the walls instead of trying to tunnel out of them. “Maybe Olaf has left The Daily Punctilio lying around, then we would know the date at least.” 

“They’re too careful to do that.” Isadora sighed. “Klaus?” She turned her hand over slowly, underneath his, and curled her fingers up so they could lace together. 

“Yes Isadora?” Klaus said with a quiver. 

“Duncan and I, we still wont be 18 for another 2 years. I don’t want to be here for another 2 years without you,” She whined softly, giving his hand a squeeze to press back the sad look in her eyes. She knew that if anything happened to the Baudelaires after Violet came of age, her and Duncan would be stuck there still, alone, and fun of pain and regret that they couldn't help when their friends needed them most. 

Klaus squeezed back, much to Isadora’s surprise. She blinked back her tears and looked at him with hope. “Things will work out.” He said calmly, trying to impress this calm on her, too. “Then maybe, we could arrange to go to my favourite library together. I’m sure there would be books on poetry; or-or the bookstore,” He suggested nervously. “Theres a bookstore not far from here called Akhmatova, Father used to take me as a special treat. I could, show you if you like?” 

“I’d like that,” She nodded. They _will_ have a life after this, she told herself firmly. They will grow up and everything will go back to the way it was. They will still have each other.  

Klaus nodded, looking down at the counter awkwardly. Then he felt something that made his heart leap, as Isadora quickly kissed him on the cheek. He beamed and turned to look at her, though she was already looking too, mostly at the counter trying to hide her blushing cheeks. 

“I’ll take the breakfast,” Isadora said quickly, slipping her hand from Klaus’s and picking up the prepared plate. “We’ve been ages.” 

Klaus cleared his throat. “Right. Yes.” 

But Isadora only made it out the kitchen door and down the first hall before she practically collided with Esme striding in the opposite direction. “There you are! Were you laying the eggs yourself?” Esme shouted unhappily, already dressed in a gaudy magenta suit - as ‘in’ as the magenta wallpaper now apparently was, with shiny black accessories that seemed to suck all the light and life from around them. “I mean seriously, how long does it take to boil an egg?”

Isadora flinched at the yelling, but remained stoic. She and the others had become accustomed to such tellings-off. “You asked for scrambled eggs.”

“Seriously? You dare to question me when I’m going to be late for work because my _useless_ Orphan messed up my breakfast?” Esme spat, knocking the plate from Isadoras hands spitefully, the salad and scrambled eggs flying in the air and plopping unwanted on the carpet. “Clean that up.” Esme made a disgusted sort of groan at her and turned, her hips swinging from side to side as she strode away up the hall. 

“You don't have to be so brutal all the time!” Isadora called after her, the injustice of it all welling up in her. 

Esme stopped and swung around, her hands on her hips. “Why not! When its _such_ fun!” She teased spitefully, marching her well-stilleto’d feet right up to Isadora without stopping causing the girl to stumble back against the wall. Esme leant over and brought her face painfully close as she jabbed her finger in Isadoras chest. “And do you know the very best part about it?” She paused to pretend to wait for an answer. “You pathetic, miserable, dirty  little Orphans have to take it!” Esme threw her head back and shrieked with laughter, grabbing the girl by the hair and throwing her to the floor with a strength you wouldn't think such a willowy thin woman would have. “Toodle-oo now have a good day children!” She waved over her shoulder without looking back. 

Isadora hit the carpet with a dull thud, waiting until she was out of sight before exclaiming loudly. “Ugh I hate her!” 

Klaus quickly appeared round the corner, having heard the commotion. “Isadora? Are you alright?” He knelt down next to her and touched his hand on her back helping her up. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” She sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “Just Esme being …Esme.” 

“Let me help you clean this up,” offered Klaus apologetically. She brushed herself down and looked dejectedly at the forgotten breakfast splattered on the wall and floor.

“I know I shouldn't let her get to me, but I cant help it!” 

Klaus didn't know how to help. He could tell how frustrated Isadora was, how out of control she felt. Nothing about their circumstances was fair, it was all dismal and depressing but they had accustomed themselves to it, and it was surprising what joy they had found in each others company, or how they learnt to value the little things - such as when Isadora knitted a gift for someones birthday (they just took it in turns because who knew what day it was) or when Violet invented a little wind up jack in the box. “At least its not all the time.”

Together they reassembled the food onto the plate, getting their fingers gooey and wet. There was a reason people ate scrambled egg with a fork, Isadora thought. “I know. Poor Violet has to deal with her all the time. She _always_ picks on Violet.” 

“So its up to us to take some of the pressure off, isn't it,” Klaus smiled, that sort of forced smile you learnt to do at school when a teacher told you to cheer up but you really didn't feel like it. 

“What are friends for?” Isadora half-laughed, that well worn mantra being as meaningful today as it was the first time she had said it back at Prufrock Prep. 

 

——-

 

Esme had packed her handbag the night before, she only needed to slide in a few of the days files she needed. Being the City’s 6th most important financial advisor did require actual work to maintain her position, and hopefully soon elevate it yet higher. But now she was going to work on an empty stomach and leaving a lazy Olaf in bed, she felt a little disenchanted with her day so far. It just wasn’t _fair._

Using the working elevator, luckily they were back in, because Esme couldn't imagine having to trek up and down every time they wanted to yank an Orphan in or out the _other_ Elevator Shaft that served as their room. She had gotten in trouble for filling the tunnel in that led the Baudelaire mansion - otherwise what sort of holding pen would it be if there was a way out? But the place was burned down now anyway, there was no reason to keep the tunnel either. 

Her heels clacked on the marble floor as she walked directly across to the other Elevator and unlocked it, the sliding doors ping’ing open. “Violet!” She barked, taking a step or two into their room. It was an unspoken agreement that she and Olaf didn't go in there, this was their space - their only _space_ , and quite frankly she could feel the dust and depression getting in her pores already. 

Violet was sitting on her bunk playing cards with Duncan. “Yes?” She set her cards down and hopped off, walking towards the woman. She hadn’t seen much of her since their kiss, and there was an immediate anxiety about doing so when her sister and Duncan were there too. “Do you need something?” She asked timidly, the scowl on Esme’s pointed features was descriptive enough. 

“You’re doing my breakfast from now on. Every morning. Understand?” ordered Esme, checking she had what she needed in her bag hanging off her forearm, that fashionable way women did, before clasping it shut and giving Violet a stern look. 

“Um, certainly. If thats what you want,” She agreed placidly. She wouldn't welcome the timetable’d work but if thats what she had decided then there was little point in arguing, especially now. There was the time pressure, the bitter look in her eyes that told Violet nothing was going right in her morning. This was the tense, short tempered Esme, the one Violet - and the others, tried to avoid. 

_“It is_ what I want. And as always what I want is the most important as we all know.” She reached out and brushed a bit of smudged dirt on Violets cheek with her thumb, sort of cupping her cheek while she was doing it, carrying on talking. “That dim-witted uglier version of you just completely messed it up this morning and now I have to go work with back-to-back meetings having not eaten a damn thing.” She brushed her finger and thumb together as if removing whatever specks of dirt she had gotten off Violets cheek. The girl tucked her gaze away, self-consciously hoping Duncan hadn’t noticed the somewhat affectionate gesture.  

“Do you mean Isadora?”

“I don’t care what her name is,” Esme snapped. “She messed it up! I should fire her.” 

“You can’t fire someone you’ve kidnapped. You’re the one keeping us around, remember?” Duncan called her out, wandering over and folding his arms at the woman. He stood next to Violet as a show of support. 

Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t be boring.” She waved her hand at the pair inching them back inside, smiling as they obliged and stepped back a pace, hearing the familiar click of the key. “Remember what I said Violet, it has to be you, _every_ time.”

“Of course, whatever you want.” The corner of Violets lips smiled slightly, and she hoped Esme saw it just before the Elevator Doors rolled shut. Violet rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. This was getting complicated. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely Autumn, my loyal reader who keeps reading and keeps nudging me to keep writing :)

“Where are the keys?” Esme demanded with a thoroughly frustrated growl, putting her handbag up on the table and unbuttoning her magenta blazer. She tossed it over the back of one of the dining chairs. Olaf was lying on the table in the semi-formal dining room, throwing peanuts in the air with one hand and trying to catch them in his mouth. He ignored her and dropped his hand messily into the large container of peanuts and repeated the motion. “Olaf!” She insisted, watching him miss another peanut as it bounced off the table onto the floor.  

“Why?” He queried, sitting up suddenly with an excited gleam in his eye. “Do you want to let off some steam by torturing the Orphans? You do look tense.” He swung his legs round resting his feet on one of the chairs, making Esme thwack his thigh with then back of her hand in general loathing at his lack of respect for her ‘in’ furniture. When he didn't move his feet off but instead split his knees apart reaching for her, she tilted her head to one side and sighed. 

“Something like that,” murmured Esme. She was tired, and it had been a long unproductive day that needed spicing up. She craved attention, and adoration; to feel like the world was admiring and doting on her and something had nagged her on the way home, telling her that Violet would be better at that than Olaf. But this would do for now. 

He ran his hands up and down her waist, pulling her tighter into his groin as he squeezed her ass with a small chuckle. “Lets draw lots like Orphan Bingo and watch them cry like ’ickle _babies_ as their number gets called,” He teased in a sinister, mocking sort of way. He had been bored all day, and this was just what he needed to spice his evening up a bit. 

“I haven't got the strength for games Olaf, just give me the keys,” Esme ran her hands up his thighs and pursed her lips, his meagre offerings not enough to fulfil her. Besides, the other night he had been less than interested in giving her a satisfying finish, who knew, if after all his power-games with whichever Orphans he picked on, he wouldn't do the same thing to her again? She felt the keys in his trouser pocket. Yes; She needed release and the person who could be relied upon for that was Violet. 

“You’re getting so boring,” Olaf complained, whisking the keys away just as she tried to stick her hand in his pocket for them. He stretched his arm back out of reach and jingled them teasingly. “Forget them. Come to bed and _dance_ with me - “ He grinned, his eyes twinkling. She swiped her hand out for the keys, but he threw them over the other side of the table, instead tucking his hand under her skirt chuckling evilly. 

“Don't bother - ” Esme grabbed his wrist and pushed him back with a scornful glare. “God you’re difficult some times.” She retrieved the keys and left, hearing him call after her.

“And you’re … getting old!” He waited a beat, thinking this was bound to make her turn round and yell at him again, or _something_. React. Do one of those things they were good at, which was fighting, arguing, playing games with Orphans, or fucking. Her footsteps got fainter, and his frustration got bigger. “Esme!” He yelled again, beating his fist on the dining table, but there was no response. He rolled his eyes and flopped back on the table, carrying on his game alone. 

 

——————

 

The elevator ride down to the lobby seemed inordinately long, and Esme propped herself on the bar staring in the mirror. She looked tired, she _did_ look a bit older. Leaning close to the glass she touched and stretched the skin around her eye examining the lines with deepening discontentment. The stress of this _years-long_ scheme was maybe, finally getting to her. How long was it until Violet came of age anyway? She checked her watch and looked at the time and date thoughtfully. Things were just starting to get exciting with the eldest Baudelaire. Throwing that away after they split her fortune would be, well, unfortunate. 

She slid the key into the Elevator lock, nodding at the Hook Handed Man who was manning the front desk as their Doorman. He waved one hook with an overly eager grin, sitting back down and flicking open his newspaper. The doors rolled slowly open and without thinking walked straight in, finding Violet sitting cross-legged at their wooden palette-crate table eating what looked to be Olaf’s leftover dinner, split among them in 5 equally minuscule portions. “Hey, you’re not allowed in here!” Duncan pushed up from the floor and his place at the crate-table with an insulted frown. 

Violet looked up at the door in alarm seeing Esme ignoring the rules, seemingly coming straight toward her. Klaus put his bowl down and tried to block her path. “Duncan’s right; _please_ , this is our home you need to leave - “

“Oh pipe down I’m only here for Violet,” Esme shot back, pushing past Klaus and grabbing Violets upper arm yanking her to her feet. “Come along - “ 

“Can’t she finish her dinner at least?” Isadora protested, exchanging looks with Klaus silently noting to one another that Esme was picking on Violet _again_. What could they even do about it? Volunteer in her stead? 

Violet stumbled behind Esme as the woman took her towards the doors, losing her balance as Esme careered to a halt to berate Isadora. “I know you’re intellectually stunted from living in my Elevator Shaft but I was talking to Violet not you,” Esme growled insultingly, holding Violet steady. She was stronger than she looked.

Violet was quick to placate her friends. “Isadora its fine,” She hushed her, touching her hand instinctively to Esme as she straightened herself up, needing to feel the warmth of the woman’s body to remind herself who she was underneath all the unpleasantness she portrayed. 

“If you’re still hungry after I’m done with you there’s plenty of food upstairs.” Esme said off-hand to Violet, thereby dismissing Isadora and the other’s concerns. She walked Violet out and turned to slide her keys into the complicated mechanism. 

“You’re lying! We all know we’re not allowed to eat your food!” Isadora protested. 

“ _You’re_ not,” Esme snarked, quirking a challenging eyebrow at her. She watched as the Quagmire girl bound up to the doors to keep arguing, but she turned the key and the heavy doors rolled shut blocking her path. Esme rolled her eyes. “God she's pathetic.” 

Violet chewed the inside of her cheek, wanting to defend her friend. "She's looking out for me." Still with the tight vice-like grip around her upper arm Esme made her follow along beside her. The working elevator took them upstairs, Esme’s heel tapped the floor impatiently, but they hadn’t reached the top and Esme suddenly reached out and pulled the emergency lever out, halting the swinging elevator mid-ascent. Violet had yet to say anything, looking to Esme in confusion, but she wasn’t given a chance to ask because Esme’s lips were on hers in an instant. 

The ferocity of Esme’s kisses made Violet groan, opening her mouth without meaning to yet feeling Esme take full opportunity, diving her tongue into Violets mouth. Violets hands struggled to contain Esme, not knowing what she was doing or why, holding her against her hips keeping her at bay rather than embracing it. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and utterly bewildering. 

Esme kissed the girl hungrily, one hand pressing the wall behind her to keep steady, the other scratching possessively through Violets hair knotting her fingers there and pulling her head back, breaking their kiss only to keep the intensity of it raining kisses down Violets neck, allowing Violet to breathe as she stared at the ceiling, baffled. Only then did Esme slow down, panting into Violets neck, needing to lean down to be there for Violet had not grown significantly in their years of captivity. “Esme?” Violet croaked, clearing her throat a bit then and relaxing her hands against Esme’s waist. She had never known the woman behave like that. 

A few moments later Esme drew back, taking a long breath in and out and relaxing back against the adjacent wall of the tight square elevator, chuckling huskily. “Problem Darling?” 

Violet blinked at her, not knowing where to start, or what to say. Was the assaulting way Esme had kissed her unpleasant? No. Had it been more than they had ever done together, than Violet had imagined, passing between them? Yes, a heck of a lot more. They had shared this beautiful, _soft_ , intimate moment before; a kiss, that cleansed everything from her mind but Esme. 

But, being ordered to do something, and willingly kissing the person doing the ordering were two different things. _Weren't they_? Or did she simply accept Esme’s increasingly intimate needs because, she already liked the idea of it? Violet blushed heavily. She shook her head. “No.” 

“Well then.” She depressed the emergency button and the elevator gears started turning again, rising the elevator up the remaining floors to the Penthouse. “I’ve had a long day and Olaf is being …,” She put her hands on her hips, thinking of her boyfriend and scowling. “ - _tiresome_.” It had been such an adventure at the beginning, re-connecting with an old flame, the chance to become even richer, and get back at Beatrices daughter all at once, it was the _perfect_ plan. But the day to day of it wasn’t quite so exciting, and Olaf wasn’t _quite so_ appealing as he used to be. The doors rolled open and she guided Violet out with a hand in the small of her back. “I need you to make the world bright and sparkly again. Think you can do that Orphan?” 

Violet looked up at her, as confused as she had been at the beginning of the ride. Esme meandered through the hallways to her bedroom - not the one she shared with Olaf _thank goodness_ Violet thought, but her personal bedroom, with adjoining dressing room and of course the Powder Room. She waited until the door was shut before answering. “If, by _bright and sparkly_ you mean - “

“I mean fuck my brains out.” Esme had already unzipped her dress, stepping out of it and replacing it onto a hanger in the wardrobe. She turned, standing proudly in just her underwear staring at Violet with her hands on her hips.

Violet trembled at the expectation. “Oh,” Was all she managed, tucking her hands behind her back and fiddling her fingers together. She couldn't even look Esme in the eye. Her chest tightened in excitement and fear, she could see from her peripheral vision that Esme was approaching her, all 5 ft 8 inches of her, _plus_ heels. _Oh God she was beautiful._  

She strode right up in front of the girl, nudging her silk covered hips against Violets, pushing for a reaction. Esme raised her eyebrows, angling her chin up despite looking down, in that challenging, high and mighty way that made Violet nervous. Her eyes twinkled, a naughty grin broke out across her theatrically large features. “ _God_ you’re adorable. Look at you getting all self conscious!” She batted Violet on the shoulder with a snort. 

“Well, sometimes you’re quite …,” Violet tucked her hair behind her ears and tried to summon the right word. She watched as Esme unstrapped her heels, and marched across the room to slide open the two large doors to her Powder Room. Violet followed slowly, a way behind with a curious tilt of her head. Esme pulled open the second drawer down in the corner of the room - that drawer Violet had first seen her open what seemed like _so long ago_ already, retrieving a ribbon from the collection of ribbons seemingly saved for her. 

Esme wandered back, dragging the length of ribbon between her manicured fingers in a slow and sensual motion. Back and for, back and for, running her fingers along the length of it hypnotically. “Beautiful? Fabulously wealthy and fashionable?” She came behind Violet and stroked her hair together, slipping the ribbon beneath her long dark hair.

“Direct,” Violet finished finally, dropping her chin to her chest making it easier for Esme to tie the ribbon. She felt her hair bunch up and the ribbon tie, and she couldn't help but smile to herself, this gesture Esme did for her. It felt as if, this quiet moment that passed between them - that to Esme was only functionary, was the most intimate thing that Violet had ever felt.

“How else does one get what one wants?” Esme rested her hands on Violets shoulders, giving them a squeeze and holding the girl to her, warming her skin for a moment. “Honestly Violet do you think I became so incredibly rich by being _nice_ to people?” Esme continued, bouncing on the edge of the bed and tossing the pillows out of the way to get herself comfortable, taking in a deep breath before her next request. “Now you.” 

She wanted nothing more than to have Violets fingers in her again, to feel the flick over her clit from the girl so hungry to please, to _learn_. To have Violets whole focus on _her_ , doting on _her_. She wanted to yet feel that she, Esme Gigi Genevieve Squalor was the most important and dazzlingly attractive person that she knew she was; and Violet was the girl to do that. 

“Me? … I don’t understand.” Violet clutched her arms across her middle, running her teeth over her lips anxiously. She stepped to the foot of the bed, gazing up the length of Esme’s long legs feeling something tightening in her belly. Her eyes darted. 

“Did you expect to stay fully clothed forever?” Esme smirked, waving her hand at Violet in an expectant fashion. “Let me see you.” She waited atop the bed looking every inch the regal and powerful captor she was. 

Violet knew little of what to do, but what Esme instructed her. Her hands moved to her skirt, to the button at the waist. Her hands paused, sensing a turning point in their affair. Could she look at her brother in the eye again, if she willingly undressed for the woman who was holding them all captive? Who had meant to be their Guardian, yet pushed them into the long falling darkness of that Elevator Shaft, a darkness they were still not free of? 

“I’m waiting.” Esme pursed her lips disapprovingly. She sat up and pressed to her feet, reaching the end of the bed and the hesitant Violet shoving her hands aside and taking the hem of her skirt in her own hands. “Or I must I do it myself?” 

Violets hands stayed by her sides and drew a shaky breath into her chest. She felt Esme’s long nail scratch her belly as she fingered the button, waiting to see if Violet would obey. Violet looked up, bringing their gazes together. “It'll only be us, _you_ in here? No Olaf, nobody else?” The words fell tentatively from Violet lips almost of their own accord, making her whimper over Esme’s hand.  

“Only, me.” Esme’s touch shifted, gently over her cheek, bringing their lips together in the same way she had the night before. It was velvety soft and warm, and nothing like the arresting way she had taken what she wanted from her in their journey upstairs. 

Violet nodded, panting softly against her lips, her fingers moving back to the button and undoing it with a faint pop as it pushed through the hole in the material. 

As soon as she was there she was gone again, her touch only an echo on Violets cheek. She found her heart beating - was it fear? Violet was unsure. She watched Esme return to the bed, propping herself up on her elbows, untying her hair and lacing her fingers through her long plait freeing herself of the last of the days confines. 

Violet obeyed, watching the smile on Esme’s face grow as she pushed her skirt to her feet, pulled the childish t-shirt off over her head. It left her in her underwear, just the same as the woman in front of her, but her own were plain and thin from over-washing, not silky and stylish like Esme’s. 

Esme reached her hand out, the question silently posited. "Hmm?" Violet obliged, taking her hand and kneeling up onto the bed, her hair out of her eyes and allowing her the focus her mind needed. She might not be inventing with cogs and wheels, but she was still creating and inventing something, albeit the pleasure and happiness of her captor. “Get on with it.” 

Violet was learning her task, and pressed her hand more confidently between Esme’s thighs. “Like this?” She played her fingers over the already wet material, watching the smile growing on her lips. Violet wanted to draw those noises from her again, the way she had done a few days prior, efforts which rewarded her that first, precious kiss. 

“You know what you need to do,” Esme smirked wickedly, urging her hand more firmly over Violets. Her other reached to the nape of Violets neck drawing her over her, enjoying the touch of her skin. Violet smiled, nodding and reaching in the top of Esme’s panties to find her centre, and this time not needing her direct instruction, pushed two fingers inside her and watched how Esme’s lips twisted into a beautiful smile. 

Her eyes rolled back dazed and hungry as Violet thrust them back and for, fucking her with intent to please, to dispel what frustrations plagued her from the day, whatever it was that drove her to drag her from her dinner and launch upon her in the elevator. Esme needed her, needed _this,_ and Violet knew in her gut that she wanted to give her that. 

Esme’s fingers dug into Violets neck and her hips moved against the pumping of Violets fingers, her eyes locking with Violets as she felt the familiar jolt of heat surge through her. Violet rubbed her thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves above Esme’s core drawing a gasp from her lips that encouraged Violet on. “Oh God _Violet_ …,” She moaned, her fingers slipping into the girls hair and bringing them closer, against her better judgement she held her other arm around her bare waist. 

Violet’s body moved with her touch and kept pace with Esme’s unreasonably desperate hips. She pumped her fingers deeper, searching inside her for as high as she could reach, wondering what depths she could find. Esme gasping out at the intensity of it; Violet knew she was close. She caught her thumb nail over Esme’s clit and Esme bucked, crying out at the sharp pain, which worked and fuelled her pleasure as her core tightened around Violets fingers with a shriek, only to quieten as her shoulders curled off the bed and she came with a shudder. 

Her arms fell limply from Violets waist and laughed headily as she rested her shoulders back down on the bed. “You’re a quick study,” murmured Esme, sounding almost drunk on the pleasure of it. Violet’s cheeks bloomed proudly. “I think you get better at it every time.” She rested down onto of her, sliding her fingers out slowly, Esme twitching as the silk of her panties stuck wetly to her core. Violet didn't move, didn't roll off her or sit up as she had before, but stayed there, holding herself to Esme turning her head to one side as she lay her head on the woman’s chest. 

Esme sighed giddily, taking her a few minutes to realise where Violet still lay, unmoving. She lifted her arm slowly to where it had already been, resting it over Violets waist. “You _can_ get up now, you know.” Esme muttered, a touch confused by the attachment. Granted she had secured her affection the other night, and had worked with a subtle purpose to instil this willingness on Violets part, but the way it was developing intrigued her. “I _am_ done.”

Violet quickly shimmied off her, feeling chilly as their bodies parted. She was only in her underwear after all and thought she had been vigorous in her actions to please Esme, it had been quick and now it was over. Her vulnerability in her nakedness made her stumble, “Sorry…,” She apologised. “I know.” She tucked her hands up over her chest as she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, only to press her eyes shut, holding something tight in her chest, as if her very arms protected it. 

Esme rolled on her side, propping herself up on an elbow. “Spit it out, Orphan.” She tossed her head and rearranged her hair over her shoulder so it draped down her back, resting her hand between their bodies. She took the opportunity to really gaze at the girl, her slender body revealed to her, even if the fun parts remained covered, she could imagine those for now. 

Violet swallowed hard, turning her head with a resigned sort of anguish in her eyes. She couldn't understand her feelings, they burdened her with equal weight as they fascinated her. “What is it like?” Her first sexual experience had been with Esme, in the bath under her demand, her hand guiding Violets own to its purpose. Then her first kiss. Esme held all of it.

“What is what like?” Esme frowned, not following. 

“What does it feel like, when …,” said Violet again, no clearer than the first time. 

Esme sighed at her. “Darling usually the person in the post-orgasmic haze is the one to lose their words so for goodness sake - “ She was cut off by Violets hand grasping her own, manoeuvring her touch between her legs. Esme quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, letting the girl settle her hand over her cotton panties. “ _Ohhh_ ….” Esme ran her tongue along her teeth, as if finding a yummy snack, her eyes suddenly alight with possibilities. She had never considered this, that purposely nurturing Violets affection for her own selfish ends could produce more than just obedience. _What fun_. She pressed her hand more firmly where Violet had lay it, cupping Violets heat in her hand. "Its not something that can be described, pet. But I can show you." 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

“I’m not saying I want to - I don't know if…,” Violet said hurriedly, letting Esme’s hand go, sitting up against the wall and folding her arms protecting herself from the truth, feeling over-exposed from what she had admitted. Esme pursed her lips, sensing it wasn’t going to be as easy as all that, even if the Orphan _had_ displayed the desire for such things.  

“But you seem to, like it.” Violet brushed her fringe from her eyes and re-folded her arms. Her inexperience was painful, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore and if this was all her life was going to be; Esme and Olaf and this Penthouse and _waiting_ then she wanted to experience it before Olaf tossed her in a hessian sack and drowned them in the river, or whatever he was planning todo once he had their fortune. _Esme would stop him_. Violet squeezed her eyes shut in confusion, re-folding her arms again visibly anxious with the thought. 

“Well of course I like it,” stated Esme with a scoffing sort of obviousness that made Violet feel a bit stupid. “It’s sex. It’s rather exciting.” 

Violet bumped the wall, tipping her head back in utter bewilderment. “But why?” she begged the question again, staring at the vaulted ceiling adorned with ‘in’ art deco designs in the corners. “I don't understand.” Violet complained. “I don't understand why its fun. It just sounds painful but you always want more - ” Violet shook her head, looking at Esme finally. “I don’t know what the fuss is about.” 

The older woman had had enough of her whining, and tsk’ed to herself, shaking her head as she sat herself up grabbing for Violets arms and yanking them out of the way. “What are you - !” Violet broke off, as Esme pulled her forwards off the wall and snaked her arm round Violets back, unclasping her bra and fought with her to rip it off. 

“Your underwear is appalling, if any of my friends saw you in these dreadful clothes I would be disowned so its damn lucky really that you don't leave the building,” Esme judged her harshly, throwing the thing off the bed only to turn back and find Violet covering herself with her arms again, her cheeks blushing shamefully. Esme rolled her eyes. “Take your arms away they're _breasts_ Violet I have them too - “  She pointed out and dug her nails into Violets wrists as she forced them down to her sides. “There.” Esme hummed, tilting her head to one side, taking a good long look at the her. 

“Why did you do that?” Violet whispered, unused to and uncomfortable with this degree of nakedness. 

Esme licked her lips, her tongue resting on her bottom lip momentarily as she reached out and stroked a loosened strand of hair behind Violets ear. “Because you weren’t going to do it yourself.” She purposely had her fingers linger there, letting them fall in feather like grazes down Violets neck to her collar bone, pausing at the subtle curve of Violets chest. Esme watched how she tensed, holding her breath just a second longer than normal, a wet longing in her eyes as she silently whined for the touch to continue its journey. Esme smirked, allowing had fingers freedom again and ghosting them over Violets chest, her flushed pink nipple, catching it between two fingers and rolling it gently. “Really Violet, I know what you want more than you do yourself. Now come here.” 

Violets eyes fluttered at the sensation, a sort of tingling behind her knees and between her legs, obediently shimmying to where Esme wanted her, positioning herself between Esme’s own long legs. Esme wrapped an arm around Violets waist and urged her back to her, so Violets bare back was pressed to Esme’s chest, and she could rearrange Violets ponytail over one shoulder out of the way. She felt her hands hesitantly onto Esme’s thighs, either side of her, containing her. She could feel the firm muscles under her skin, hours of gym sessions or the 48 or 84 flights of stairs when elevators were ‘out’ having toned her thighs and ass nicely. 

Violet blushed and pressed her eyes shut, this was crazy. What was she doing? 

The woman kept her still with her arm, settling in the contour between Violets hip and her ribs, her other hand free to explore her body. “Tell me what it feels like,” Esme murmured hotly in her ear, confidently teasing and toying Violets nipple in one hand. She rolled her palm over it, squeezed it gently, then hard, then gently again, scraping just around the edge with her fingernail, always testing and teasing and reading Violets twitches and gasps to different movements. Esme was sure of her skills and uncompromising when it came to exploring Violets reactions.”Tell me.” 

Violet couldn't stop the groan that slipped from her lips, her mouth feeling suddenly dry as other nerves were flooded with sensation. It was a heady sort of experience, having reactions drawn from your body that you didn't know it contained. She squeezed her shoulder blades together pushing out her chest into Esme’s hand. “Don’t stop,” Violet demanded hungrily, her fingers digging in to Esme’s thighs. 

There was a sudden slap across the sensitive pink bud of her nipple, making Violet cry out in surprise. “That’s not what I asked, Darling.” Esme reprimanded swiftly. “Tell me what it feels like.” 

“I don’t know! Like, my body is on fire. As if its, messing up all the tiny nerve endings and connections and everything is firing at once.” Violets answer hurried itself from her mind into scrambled words as she panted and her body hungered between Esme’s legs. 

Esme held her tightly, controlling the way her hips shifted and moved. She was a good lover and was certain Violet was aroused by now, her body told her as such. Leaving the sensitive and bruised nipple behind, she slipped her hand into Violets pants to check for herself. “Oh sweetheart,” She smiled with a small sigh. It was delicious. The poor girl was _so very wet_ , her arousal leaked down her thighs and Esme couldn't help but wonder how she had never thought of trying this out herself. She was more than desperate for exploration, for release, that after only a few minutes of foreplay she was ready. “How long have you been thinking about this?” She breathed into Violets ear, kissing her there and chuckling at the groan it produced. 

“A while…,” Violet admitted, clinging onto Esme’s thighs as she turned her head just slightly to kiss the woman back, nuzzling into her neck. 

It really wasn’t Esme’s thing, all the soft affection Violet was showering her with, but she could deal with it. The importance of this fuck couldn't be underestimated, Esme knew it was _this_ that would secure Violet to her for months to come, if not longer. “I can tell.” Esme took her by surprise by pushing into her invitingly wet depths, one finger at first and then two, feeling something snap and give as she thrust her fingers high into her. “There…,” She cooed, though she had to hold her steady as Violet gasped at the initial pain of it, the odd feeling of having something physically inside her where nothing had ever been. She struggled a little, her legs bending and kicking as Esme’s fingers ebbed and flowed up and down to their own rhythm inside of her. 

Violet felt as if she was being taken over by something, or some _one_ as her body responded to Esme’s tender yet demanding ministrations. “Goodness…!” Violet choked, her hips urging off the bed toward Esme’s hand, surprising herself with what she was doing. It was as if her body knew what to do, even if she did not. 

“You’re so polite, even when you’re being fucked,” Esme laughed, kissing the back of Violets shoulder as her fingers carried on building the intensity inside her young lover. She kept going like this for a while, taking her time in letting Violet adjust to it, directing her fingers this side then that, curling and flicking, twisting her whole hand to stretch her in a different way and gripped her when Violet yelped. It wasn’t so much pain, but was perceived to be a sort of, pulling, stretching, that throbbed but didn't hurt and Violet found it took only a few seconds for that burn to cease and be replaced with yet more heat. “Are you going to come for me, pet?” 

Violets mind raced. _What did she want her to do?_ “I’ll uh, I’ll try?” She panted between strokes. 

“You don't need to _try_ , just let it happen,” Esme instructed, sliding her fingers out momentarily to brush over Violets clit, finding it and placing her thumb there before pumping her fingers back in. With each push and twist she rubbed Violets clit with vigorous intent, causing an explosion in Violets body like a fire cracker going off and bursting down through all the nerves of her body. She writhed desperately in Esme’s arms, searching for something she could discern. “That means relax, for fucks sake!” Esme scolded, keeping her steady to even have a chance of maintaining the position of her fingers inside her at such a crucial time. She knew it was intense. she knew it was more than the girl had ever felt and Esme was a challenging lover. There was nothing considerate about the way she fucked, endearing her to both men and women who could endure her pace and hunger who wanted to experience that high when it came.  

But for Violet, it was too much. Her expectations of sex had been limited, and _God it felt good_ but her mind couldn't keep up with what her body was feeling and perceiving. She wriggled and tried to sit up but Esme was strong and held her steadfast. “Stop…!” She whined finally, not wanting to give in but she had to. She had to beg. “Stop I cant take it anymore!” She cried out finally, tears welling up in her eyes as she felt the weight of her failure hit her. Fuck, she had lost everything. She knew it, in that moment she had failed Esme and herself and couldn't come - _whatever that meant,_ and couldn't keep up with it. Everything she longed for from Esme that she was unwilling to try to explain even to herself, was going to be gone. 

“You’re nearly there - “ Esme said loudly, firmly. _Like hell was she going to stop now_. 

Her nails dug into the flesh of Esme’s thighs. It was incredible what the woman was doing but would she even be able to look at herself in the mirror again? Would she see the humiliation of her breaking in her eyes? That she wanted Esme, wanted _this_ , and like it or not suffered a spectrum of humiliating desires she couldn't rein in. “Please! Oh God!” 

“You need to relax!” Esme snapped frustratedly at her. 

“I can’t! Thats not easy!” 

“Trust me would you!” Esme fought to keep a hold of her, growling as Violet wrenched herself free. “Look at me you sweaty little - ugh!” Violet obeyed her, albeit staring wretchedly back at her through tear stricken eyes. _She’d fucked up._  

Esme wiped under each eye in a slow, aggravated sort of fashion, her long dark eyelashes flicking as she stared past Violet. This wasn’t good enough, and she didn't want her ability to control Violet to slip away through sheer fear and panic of something that the girl didn't understand. “On your knees.” She clicked her fingers, fixing her arm out straight to point a long, wet finger at the floor. 

She panicked. “I’m sorry I didn't know what was happening I couldn't … I couldn't do it!” Violet hurried to explain herself, ripping the ribbon from her hair and tossing her head side to side as she knelt forwards to try and appease Esme. 

Esme only tipped her head back, so she could stare down her nose at Violet in a superior, unimpressed fashion. She silently jabbed her finger in the air again, pointing at the floor. 

There was a deep, unintelligible flutter in Violets belly. She exhaled slowly, the stress and fear lifting like steam from a boiling pan of water. It was exhilarating, and confusing, but there was no doubt in her mind that Esme’s order took root in her mind, and her _heart_. Her body moved of its own accord, clumsily stepping one bare foot off the bed, her hand gripping the edge of the mattress as she stepped her other foot off. Violet kept herself still in Esme’s penetrating gaze. She took to her knees one by one, releasing a trembling breath. 

Esme sat herself straighter, taller, calming herself first, biting away her usual response that would be more along the lines of a scathing put down and a slap across the cheek. Unruly Orphans didn't get rewarded. But, this was Violet, and there was more at stake than just this moment right now. Violet had inexplicably endeared herself to Esme over the past few weeks and watching the girls attachment grow at the same time was, utterly thrilling. Esme ushered her closer, tucking her hand just slightly under the girls arm to pull her as close as she could. “Calm, down.” Esme said in a clear, firm voice. Her hand quivered a little just before she did it, the movement caught her off guard. But her hand lowered to Violets head and she stroked Violets hair in comforting, fluid movements. “Sshhh…”

Violet lowered her head onto Esme’s legs and shut her eyes. “I’m sorry,” She begged, weeping into Esme’s lap.

“You’re mine, Darling. You understand that, don't you?” Esme spoke softly, tilting her head as her words lodged right into Violets subconscious. “Now you’ve been a quick learner, because you’re smart, and you’ve pleased me when I’ve told you to. Because you _know,_ whats good for you, hmm?”   

Violet nodded, her jagged breaths heaving, slowing as she started to calm down. 

“Darling, what’s good for you, is _me_. I’m the one thats important here.” Esme combed her fingernails against Violets scalp. “All you have to do, is do as you’re told, and I’ll look after you.” Esme caught herself smiling, although Violet wouldn't see it. She was so beautiful like this, Esme felt a pressure in her chest at the sight of her. What was that? _Affection?_ “I’ve been kind to you where I can. Kept you away from Olaf. Fed you.” The more she gazed down at Violet, the more she knew she _wanted_ this. She wanted Violet devoted to her, adoring her, _belonging_ , to her. “Thats right, isn't it?”

Esme cupped her hand under Violets jaw, lifting her chin slowly. Violet willingly brought her eyes up and met Esme’s gaze. “Yes.” 

Her fingers pinched the ribbon from Violets hand, drawing it slowly out of her grip. She looped the ribbon under Violets hair that hid the pale skin of her back, bringing the two ends together and tying it into a bow. “So trust me.” She brushed the back of her fingers over Violets cheek, and leant down to kiss her. 

Violet kissed her back, kneeling up and leaning her hands on Esme’s legs, chasing the kiss as Esme sat up again. “I do,” Violet murmured as their lips parted. 

“Come here.” Esme patted the bed next to her. She got to her feet and clambered back onto the bed, sitting herself where Esme had indicated, only to have a hand press to her shoulder to lay her down. Esme tucked her hair hair behind her ear, flicking it out the way as she arranged herself next to Violet, slightly over her, filling her field of vision. “Open your legs.” 

Violet whimpered at the words. She had never heard anything so wonderfully erotic, or remotely directed toward her. She obeyed, shifting her thighs apart a little and feeling Esme settle her hand there once again, parting her folds in light expert movements. Violet bit her lower lip, and nodded. The sharp depths of Esmes fingers hit her with a crash, feeling them push back inside her finding their place again. Her back arched, going with the movement this time rather than fighting it. Esme pumped her fingers in and out of her, revelling in the soft squelching sounds of Violets wetness coating her fingers as she did so. “Oh please…!” It only took Violet a few minutes to find herself at the edge of the water again, the waves of orgasm lapping temptingly at her feet. “Esme!” She begged, clutching the woman’s arm in her hand gazing deeply into her eyes. 

Esme just smiled, smirked, _grinned_ in delight. “Yes my sweet, I’m here.” She swung her arm in strong practiced strokes, moving only from the shoulder down, the rest of her body the picture of a goddess like powerhouse that was in total control. “You can come for me,” She cooed, circling Violets clit with her thumb. “I know you can.” 

Violet nodded, one hand balling the duvet into a fist the other gripping Esme’s forearm as her body tensed, clenching around Esme’s fingers and she curled forward off the bed. She was there, she just needed - Esme pressed her thumb down hard onto Violets most sensitive bundle of nerves, gripping her there as light burst behind Violets eyes and she body shuddered, coming hard. “Fuck!” Violet gasped from somewhere deep in her chest, guttural and instinctual. Her hips bore down against the sensation, and she felt the warm stickiness of her desire leak over Esme’s fingers. 

Esme watched her flop back on the bed, panting in a dazed sort of way, waiting a beat before letting her fingers slip out. She quickly wiped them on the bedsheets and shifted up the bed, sitting upright against the headboard. Esme rested her legs long, crossing them just at the ankle as Violet curled onto one side, catching her breath. “Come here,” She whispered, encouraging her over. Violet obeyed gladly, inching herself toward Esme and putting her head once more on her lap, draping herself over the woman’s legs. 

“You never forget your first time, Darling. Did you know that?” Esme hummed, idly resting her hand on Violet back, tracing the contours of her shoulder blades, her neck, exploring her with quiet fascination, now such freedom had been given to her. “Of course, I am quite unforgettable.”  

Violet couldn't believe how intimate such feather light touches could be. That this, just lying here as her panting breaths slowed and her body recovered, was just as erotic as what came before. “Do I tell them?” Violet said after a few minutes of silence. 

“Who?” 

She lifted her head slightly to look up at Esme. “The Quagmires. Klaus and Sunny.” 

Esme just smiled. _Violet was proud to be hers._ “Darling, no-one needs to know a thing. Not them, not Olaf.” She brushed an eyelash from Violets cheek with one finger, bringing her fingers under Violets chin gripping it firmly. “Its better that way. They wouldn't understand.”  

Violet felt a little saddened that she couldn't share this wonderful thing that had happened, but she knew Esme was right. She hadn’t told them about her first kiss, not even Isadora. Even then she hadn’t wanted the others to damage what she was so enjoying, so happy to experience. Or make her doubt it. Esme had taught her how to use her fingers for pleasure, that first time in the Powder Room, and now Esme had given her that same pleasure. Showed her that life wasn’t all about cleaning and drudgery but if you did as you were told then Esme could be a tender, kind person. Loving, even. In her own way. 

“I know. You’re probably right,” Violet agreed sympathetically. Neither of them could tell the people in the lives. This affair was just theirs, and theirs alone.  

“Of course I am,” Esme purred, leaning down to kiss Violet. “Don’t forget it.” 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Klaus yawned and rubbed his eyes, fumbling for his glasses. He was pleased to see Violets sleeping form still tucked under the covers; it had been a late night and only Duncan had waited up for her, at his insistence. Klaus sensed his friends budding interest, and it made him happy to know that Duncan would be looking out for her, more than he already did. He jostled his hand through his hair ruffing it all up as he hopped out of his hammock and pulled some trousers on. 

The elevator doors started to crank open, it was unusually early. He held his hand up to shield his eyes from the light, blinking a bit. He was surprised to see The Hook Handed Man there instead who it usually was. Isadora looked up from her poems, biting the end of her thoroughly over-sharpened pencil, barely an inch long anymore. “What time is it?” Klaus asked, tucking his hands in his pockets. The shaft of light that illuminated their home was not a welcome one for Isadora, who tried to hide the fact she was ogling Klaus’ bare chest. 

“Time for breakfast. Get your sister up.” The Hook Handed Man grunted and waved one hook in the direction of Violet. 

“She’s asleep,” Klaus replied, unmoving. 

“Don’t argue with me Orphan. The boss and his Mrs want their breakfast.” 

Just as Klaus was about to argue again, Violet was rolling over and stretching, her legs falling out the side of her small crate-made bed. “I’m awake.” She quickly combed her fingers through her hair. 

“Good.” He waved her out with a hook.

Isadora turned back to her poetry. “Just don't do what I did and get the eggs wrong. Even though I got them right she just changed her mind on purpose - “

Klaus held his hand up shushing her. 

“She just gets stressed before work, she probably didn't mean it,” Violet said, trying to be kind. She wouldn't have anything said against Esme right now, and they might not understand why, but Violet was willing to defend her if necessary since last night. You didn't have the best night of your life, experience sex for the first time and give yourself to someone and not defend them when your friends didn't approve. Not that they knew anything.

Esme’s favouritism had become a bit of sticking point for Isadora, since the whole scrambled egg-boiled egg fiasco. It wasn’t so much that Esme had been horrid on purpose, that was fairly normal, it was how she had tried to make her sound stupid, incapable, in front of the others, instead extolling Violets virtues as being able to do as she was told. Thats how Isadora put it anyway. 

“Don’t make excuses for her,” Isadora snapped grumpily.

Violet pulled a dress on and shimmied down her nightie, stepping out of it and into some fluffy socks. “I’m not, I’m just saying.” 

The Hook Handed Man shut the doors again and escorted Violet upstairs, leaving her at the doors the Penthouse to make her own way in. Violet found the kitchens empty, but must have made enough noise opening and closing doors that Esme heard her anyway, and called out for her. 

Violet followed the voice and found her in the shared bedroom, somewhere she had never been. She paused in the doorway, casting her eyes towards a bare chested Olaf lounging on the pillows, still dozing. Esme sat at a vanity table with three mirrors in a triquetra in front of her as she leant her head to the side fixing some shining diamond earrings in her pierced earlobes, then straightening again checking in the mirror how they matched her outfit. “Come in Darling, don’t hang around in the doorway.” She beckoned with a wave over her shoulder, looking at her in the mirror. Violet loped over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder with a smile. “I have to be at work by 8, so I need you to fix my breakfast before I run out of time.” Esme instructed with a clap of her hands and a well intentioned but firm look.

“I know.”

“Good.” She brushed her hair and Violet had to contain the urge to take the brush off her, do this task herself. She had such long hair when it was out of all the curves and twists Esme fixed them in. “Egg-white omelette with spring onions. Cranberry juice, chilled of course. Thats all.” Esme turned slightly to glance at Olaf, shrugging Violets hand from her shoulder just in case. 

“Thats easy enough.” Violet pulled her hand back and tucked her arms round her middle instead. When Esme seemed to drop all attention from her and instead started spraying her hair madly with hairspray, Violet took the signal that she was no longer needed here, but to set to work. It was a strange sort of hello, after their - _to Violet at least,_ profound night together, for it to be so business like this morning. Violet reminded herself the woman had to work, especially with Olaf’s only sporadic acting engagements, and that she should do what she could to support her. 

Once in the kitchen Violet set to work, fetching eggs, a dash of milk and the spring onions from the fridge, turning the stove on to warm, carrying on quite contentedly making Esme her breakfast. She hummed to herself as she cut the spring onion, tossing them in the pan to brown a little giving her time to whisk the eggs together. She pondered what to do with the yolks, if she could bake something with them for Isadora as a peace offering. 

“You do realise you’re singing,” The voice came, and Violet looked up with a shy smile as Esme waltzed in to the kitchen. 

“Yes, sorry.” Violet plated up the omelette just on time and placed it on the kitchen table with a knife and fork. 

Esme tucked into her breakfast, checking her watch every few minutes as Violet cleared up. She heard some sloppy dragging footsteps come down the hall, Olaf appearing with a yawn. “Good morning.” She said politely, going back to scrubbing the pan feeling the air in the room change. 

Olaf scowled at her in hungover confusion, padding barefoot to Esme and kissed her on the cheek. “Morning my pet.” He plucked a lump of omelette from the plate and popped it in his mouth, making her glare. “Whats with her?” He nodded towards Violet, resting his hands in the pockets of his bed-robe. 

Esme slid the knife and fork together on the plate with a clatter, touching a napkin to her lips carefully, not wishing to do her lipstick again. “What? She made breakfast.” 

“Yeah but, she's smiling.” Olaf frowned and stared at Violet, who was still clearing up quietly. “Orphans don't smile.”

Esme shrugged, pretending not to know the reason for Violets evident good behaviour. “She enjoys it. How should I know.” She returned the plate an cutlery to the surface for Violet to wash up, rewarding her a small proud smile, knowing from this angle Olaf wouldn't be able to see. “Is it such a surprise? I told you they would be domesticated eventually.” 

“I want what she had. But with meat. And black coffee.” Olaf barked at Violet, who reluctantly brought the just-cleaned pan back out of the cupboard again and re-retrieving all the ingredients she had just put away. 

“Of course,” Violet said, only to acknowledge to Olaf she had heard him. 

“See?” Esme turned back to her hands on her hips. “As long as she's been obedient theres no reason to be punish her is there?” She glanced to Violet, as if to tell her to _bloody well behave herself_ now she has said that, even if she was away at work. Esme wasn’t keen on leaving Violet out while she was gone, unable to scoot her out of the way should Olaf decide to target her, but there was no legitimate way to send her back to the Elevator Shaft now he was awake. Besides which he could go and get her anytime he liked, and if they were to keep their fun a secret then she needed to play along with Olaf, too. 

“I guess not,” He admitted with a grumble.

“So I don't want to come home and find you playing your silly games with her,” Esme pointed and glared. 

“But its _fun_ ,” Olaf whined in a playful childish voice. He grinned at Violet, there _was_ fun to be had, especially when Esme had recently been keeping the girl all to herself. Violet plated up his breakfast and repressed the way his stares made her shiver uncomfortably. She brought the plate and fresh cutlery round to the kitchen table again, keeping out of their way, though Esme was doing her best acting and mostly ignoring her, in favour of Olaf. 

Esme’s hips swung as she walked over to him, drawing Violets attention for a moment. “I mean it,” She purred, snaking her arms around Olaf’s waist under his bed robe tickling the hairs at the small of his back. “Play, _nice_.” She pressed a warm kiss to his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away the lipstick smudge. Olaf grabbed her waist and growled into her lips as he kissed her again, urging her against the kitchen counter. She felt her dress ruck up a little as he pressed against her, his hands pawing at her body, and although his affections were not unwelcome because _she was always up for more_ , she had to get to work.“Darling I don't have time for this - “

“Theres always time to dance,” He argued, his hips bucking on hers wanting more. 

Esme stretched back reaching away, only to round on him and slap him across the cheek with a raised eyebrow. “Later.” She bopped his nose with her finger and walked off, rolling her eyes. Their relationship was so _fucked_ sometimes. She loved him, of course she did. But he was also irritating and didn't appreciate her love of fashion or following of society’s whims of ‘in’ things that she loved so much. He didn't appreciate her desire to be not just the City’s 6th most important financial advisor, but some day, the 1st, which required work. She had climbed the ladder of success when he had squandered his fortune and instead roped her in to acquire a replacement. He had played on her need for revenge and really she had been glad for the opportunity, but still. They argued as often as they made-up.

Olaf stumbled back and rubbed his cheek with an amused grin. “Is there going to be a follow up to that because you know I can do rough - “

Violet heaved at the thought. 

“Don’t distract me Olaf, I am terribly important and I have important things to be doing. Toodle-oo both!” She called out her goodbyes as she left the kitchen, both Olaf and Violet watching her ass sway back and for in her skirt. Violet blushed, and turned away. 

Olaf growled to himself, sighing and shaking his pyjama pants a bit with one hand. _Ugh_ , she was like a drug to him. Toxic and terrible, but stunning and addictive. He noticed the breakfast waiting with a thin waft of steam elevating from it. He raised his long eyebrow, surprised and pleased as he dropped onto the chair to gobble up the breakfast. “Looks like its just you and me Orphan,” He said incoherently as he munched through a mouthful of omelette.  

“I’ll get on with the chores then.” Violet excused herself quietly, heading out the kitchen as well. 

His arm reached out catching her wrist in his hand, tugging her back. “No you wont. Keep me company.” Olaf yanked her arm directing her to a chair. “Just think, you could’ve stayed married to me and done all my chores and cooked me breakfast; instead you and the other brats made an escape for it so you could, live _somewhere else_ and … do all the chores and make me breakfast.” He grinned, his eyes shining at her. Violet folded her arms and reluctantly waited for him to finish eating. 

“At least now I have help and my siblings aren't dead; you said you would dispose of them after the wedding,” Violet reminded him, as though this was a win for her that they _had_ escaped, they _had_ survived him. 

Olaf flicked the knife around in his hand, then aggressively stabbed a chunk of bacon she had put in the omelette, as if she needed the imagery. “They’re not dead _yet_.” 

Violet fidgeted in her seat, not knowing what to say. 

Finishing the food, Olaf dropped the cutlery on the empty plate with a disrespective clatter, Violet watching silently as the fork tumbled from the plate and off the table. “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve got a new acting job. Weekend and matinee cover for the leading man in a show that runs the entire summer.” Olaf informed her proudly, as she reached over to retrieve the fork and placing it back on the plate with a sigh. Olaf growled at her lack of response, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath as if to try and control himself. “ _Congratulate me_ Orphan.”

“Congratulations,” Violet replied through a half-baked fake smile, doing a small applause, remembering how he had always forced them to applause his musical numbers when they lived in Olaf’s crumbling mansion. 

“As such, you will help me rehearse today. Esme seems to think you know how to behave yourself these days so, lets see shall we?” He stood suddenly, with such energy he knocked his chair over and did a theatrical sort of turn so his bedroom spun behind him, holding is arm aloft as he spoke. “Let us, transform!” 

Violet bit her tongue, standing his chair back up and trailing after him as he sashayed as though already on stage, down the hall. Violet felt already uneasy about this, but it wasn’t housework so there always that bright side. When she realised that Olaf was taking her to Esme’s dressing room, and her pulse spiked. _What was he doing? Did he know about last night?_ Esme’s bedroom/Dressing room/Powder room combination were usually her private space and not for Olaf. Esme frequently dismissed him so she could get ready without him there - as she had done the other day, Violet fetching stockings and helping her get them on, or lying in her bed having sex the night before. She blushed thinking about it. 

He flung open the doors to one of her many wardrobes, sliding things down the rail occasionally pulling them out then tossing them on the floor carelessly. “Aha!” exclaimed Olaf, producing a teal green dress with a halter neck line and low cut bust, shoving it into Violets hands. “Perfect for a leading lady to play opposite a great and experienced ac- _tor_ like myself.” 

“Its Esme’s.” She looked at the beautiful dress and straightened it carefully on the hanger. 

Olaf slumped and rolled his eyes, snatching it off her again to remove the hanger and unzip it. “I know its Esme’s put it on.”

“I cant wear her clothes!” Violet sounded exasperated. This was ridiculous. 

He stepped worryingly close to her, licking his lips in a pained expression. “So you’ll do whatever Esme wants and not what I want is that it?” He cocked his head to one side and waited for her response. 

Violet dropped her gaze and stared away at the floor someplace. He was so close she could smell his day-old aftershave, see the soft beat of his heart under his ribs with each rise and fall of his breathing. Her fingers trembled a bit, holding the dress close as if, because it was Esme’s, it would offer her some sort of protection, that some strength could be gleaned from it and get her through it. “It’s just, won’t she be upset if a dusty Orphan like me puts her dress on?” She attempted to reason with him. She was unsure which part worried her the most, playing dress up in Esme’s clothes, or playing acting lessons with Olaf. All of it just felt, _humiliating_. “Its so, fabulously fashionable and I don’t think I could do such a thing justice.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Olaf’s chest. “Ah, I see.” He wagged his finger at her, before lacing them together in a strange little arch shape as he pondered her response, as though he could glean some interesting information from her about his girlfriend from their time together. “You fear her reprisal?”

Violet couldn't help but blush at the thought of what _punishment_ Esme could concoct for her. “She’s very strict.” 

Olaf shrugged and waved his hand at her, telling her to put it on, though the idea of Esme being strict was a tantalising one. “Well I require it for the rehearsal of my big performance on Saturday,” He stated matter-of-factly, caring little for what trouble it could get Violet into. It wasn’t his problem. The Orphans were there to do as they were told and if he needed someone to read the script and practice with, while Esme conducted her tedious financial affairs everyday, then thats what the Orphan would do. “If she has to punish you later so be it.” He bounced onto the edge of Esme’s bed and tested its springiness, pulling a bored face when Violet still wasn’t moving. “Put it on!” 

“Aren’t you going to - “ She started, her eyes flicking to the open doorway and back to him. What did he want from her exactly? Strip right here in front of him? She remembered how difficult it had been last night undressing for Esme, and that was someone who she _wanted_ to do it for, even if she felt self-conscious about it. Olaf had only ever made snide, creepy remarks that stuck to her like a stain she couldn't wash off, but he had never pushed things further than that. She had deduced from this, that despite his thinly veiled threats of _I’ll touch whatever I want_ or the more recent _The things I could do to you_ , that he wanted only to make her squirm, panic in heated panting breaths as the fear rose inside her. It was then he usually laughed or walked away, slammed the trap door locking them in. 

But it didn't make this situation any better. 

“And give you a chance to steal her jewellery? No. What do you think I am an idiot,” He snapped, hopping to his feet again and doing exactly that, lifting the lid of one of Esme’s jewellery boxes that sat on _yet another_ vanity table, not the one she had been at this morning in their shared bedroom. Violet wondered if all this wealth was really necessary, watching Olaf leaf through the necklaces, lifting one into the air dangling from his finger. 

“I won’t steal her jewellery, I’m not a thief,” Violet replied smartly, narrowing her eyes at him. She wouldn't put it past Olaf to do just that, however. 

“You know I don't think I can take that chance.” He scratched the small patch of beard on his chin, doing his best to look antipathetic about it, swinging the small silver pendant from his fingers in his other hand as he approached her. “I’ll have to stay right here in the room with you.” He continued, taking steps closer than Violet would be willing to accept. “Just in case.” Violet stepped back as he came closer, soon stumbling into the wardrobe finding there was no further she could go. This was it then. She turned her back to him, closing her eyes tightly and tried to block the knowledge from her mind that he was right there, within arms reach of her, hearing how his breathing hitched when she caught the hem of her dress in both hands and dragged it up bundling it into her hands as she shimmied to awkwardly over her ribs and up over her head in one go. Her long hair covered most of her back, a thought which comforted Violet, but it didn't last long. As she bent down to pick up the dress he had selected for her, she felt his hands settling on her hips and the top few inches of the worn grey panties. She froze, squeezing her eyes tight again in terror. He brushed her hair to the side, finding the clasp of her bra and unhooking it, encouraging the straps down her arms. Violet held her arms across her chest tightly, using the dress to help keep covered. “My, haven’t you grown up,” Olaf murmured. 

“It has been few years.” She could feel his breath on her bare skin, causing her to hurry and step into the teal green dress yanking it up over her hips as quickly as she could, shedding the bra just as the dress glided up over her ribs covering her breasts straight away. She prayed the change over was quick enough he hadn’t been able to glimpse anything. 

He humphed frustratedly, but let it go for now as he peered down at the dropped bra, reaching down to fetch it. “Your underwear is awful though, how can you even wear that look at it.” Olaf held it aloft with a dissatisfied groan. 

“What is everyones obsession with my underwear!” Violet spun round to him, stamping her foot. Esme had basically said the same thing the night before, and it was mortifying then for the woman she so dreamt of, to be desiring her _less_ because of something she couldn't control. “For goodness sake buy us some clothes then, go shopping - !” She yelled at him, disheartened by it being brought up _again_ and in such a poisonous way. She would love to hit the shops and find some new outfits, clothes that actually fit and didn't have to constantly be adjusted as they grew, hand-washing their clothes and yanking them back on barely dry because Esme wouldn't let them use the electric washer/dryer. Everything about her underwear was _not her fault_ and twice already she had had this thrown in her face as an example of her ugliness. She wondered if Duncan would be so cruel as to point it out for a third time, should she ever do more than simply let him hold her in bed. But such thoughts that were busy swarming in the back of her mind fell quiet when she saw Count Olaf’s face twist menacingly at her outburst. “I’m sorry …” She whispered quickly, as he pocketed the necklace and balled his fist, the corner of his lip twitching, animal-like. “Count Olaf - !” She begged too late, as he punched her across the jaw catching her lip with his knuckles and knocking her to the floor. 

Violet collapsed at the force of it onto her knees, her hand flying to her mouth and dabbing the instant throb that bloomed on her lips, seeing the unmistakable smudge of blood on her fingers as she looked at them. 

She lifted her eyes slowly. He stepped to her and she cowered slightly underneath him, but instead of further reprimand he let the little diamond and pearl necklace dangle from his fingers again, unclasping the two ends and draping it around her neck. She felt him do the chain up, then lift her hair out and over the delicate silver necklace. “Dress,” He ordered in a low, uncompromising voice, returning to the edge of the bed and sitting down. He rested his hands in his lap and waited. 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Esme stood in the dark marble lobby of 667 Dark Avenue staring at the front desk, peculiarly empty. The Doorman, a role now taken by the Hook Handed Man - or Hooky for short, was absent from the desk. His one and only job was to stand at the desk and greet her upon arrival and departure, occasionally carry bags for her, and more recently fetching Orphans when she and Olaf didn't have time todo it themselves. So where was he? 

She went upstairs with an unsettled sense of foreboding in her chest, thinking about what Olaf could have been up to all day with _her_ Orphan. The thought made her rap her nails anxiously on the brass bar in the elevator, an anxiety that she found disturbing in itself. Was it that she actually cared for Violet now? Or was it that she was attracted to the way Violet had attached herself to her, the way she gazed at her? Esme had always needed to be _seen_ , to be adored, perhaps Violet gave her that was all she cared for? She scoffed and dismissed the thought. 

“Count Olaf  - _please dont_!” 

Esme heard the girls voice carry down the hallway of identical doors. The anguished sound of Violets voice made her eyes widen. She dumped her work bag on a zebra striped chair as she passed the lounge, following the sound to the semi-formal dining room. Tension throbbed through her body in an instant. The Hook Handed man was struggling to keep a hold of the Quagmire boy, his hand flat on the surface of the dining table pinned in place by Olaf, who held one of her heavy glass vases aloft readying to - _by the looks of it_ \- slam it down on to the boys hand. The weight of something like that would seriously bruise if not break his fingers, which from where she was standing already appeared swollen. “What on earth is going on?” Esme demanded, “That’s an expensive vase Olaf if you break it - !” 

“Ah Esme my Darling I’m glad you’re here,” He cut her off, grinning through his slight embarrassment at being caught with the vase out of place. Elbowing Violet to the side, the vase wobbled in his hand balanced precariously in the air. “Get your _pet_ out of my way before I smash this thing on her head instead of his hand where I am trying to aim it.” He snarled through gritted teeth. Violet _was indeed_ getting in the way and pushing herself between Olaf and the Quagmire boy, throwing herself over him protectively. 

“Esme!” Violet cried out to her, not having seen her in the doorway until Olaf addressed her. She was too busy switching her gaze from the large vase faltering in Olaf’s grip, and the tears that streamed down Duncans cheeks in pain. “Stop him _please_ he's going to hurt Duncan!” 

Esme pressed her eyes shut for a moment, turning her head as she debated what to do. She didn't care two jolts for the boy, and whatever Olaf’s justification for punishing him so violently, it must have been bad enough to warrant such an outburst. He usually teased them and played humiliating games with them, fine, but _this_ was vengeful, purposeful anger. Esme ran her tongue along her teeth and put her hands on her hips. “Violet come here,” She barked authoritatively. She wouldn't risk the girl getting hurt; Violet was worth more to her than the Quagmire boys hands. 

Violets mind spun. She feared what would happen to Duncan, he was shaking so badly and Olaf had already stamped on his hand and wrist so many times all it needed was this one final blow to crack the thing bones running beneath the swollen skin. 

Was she really stopping it though by forcing herself between them? Or would Olaf simply toss her aside, likely hit her again, compelling her to stay down and carry on regardless. She craned her neck to turn and look at Esme, begging her what to do. “But Count Olaf will - !” 

“Do as I say..” Esme threatened in a slow, husky voice. 

Violet felt her core tense, as the tone of Esme’s voice knocked the breath from her chest, silencing any further idea of arguing. Slowly, she edged out from underneath Count Olaf, pausing to kiss Duncan on his tear stained cheek. “Trust me,” She whispered, leaving him there and walking over to Esme obediently, albeit reluctantly. 

She felt Esme’s long fingers dig into her shoulder, gripping her and keeping her still. It made Violet wince and duck her head to one side. The woman bend down slightly tucking herself in close to murmur into her ear. “I shouldn’t have to ask you twice.” 

“I’m sorry,” Violet mumbled almost automatically. She didn't truly know where it came from, but the need was so intense to not displease Esme, it just felt like the right thing to say. 

Olaf rolled his eyes putting the vase down, hanging his arm and swinging his arm back and for like some sort of ape. “Just a brief interlude everyone, that _damn vase_ is actually really heavy,” He complained, talking as if still on stage to an audience who were wondering what the hold up was. He cleared his throat and stood tall again, scooping it up in his hand and in one fell swoop, held it up in the air and plummeted it towards Duncans outstretched hand. 

“Nooo!” Duncan screamed, as the vase collided with his knuckles. He tossed back and writhed in pain struggling to pull his arm away but it was held steadfast in place. He floundered through a few whimpering screams, the Hook Handed Man holding him steady as he laughed at the boys misfortune. 

“Duncan!” Violet lurched forwards despite herself, but found herself caught in Esme’s arm looped around her chest and neck holding her back. “Please Esme let me go to him!” 

“He is not your concern, Darling. You _cannot_ help him,” Esme said forcefully, her words slow and punctuated, restraining the struggling girl in place. “I however, _can_ sort this out, if you like. But _you -“_   She paused, relaxing her arm as Violet turned to look up at her hopefully. “Have to keep out of it.”  

Violet nodded quickly. She just knew Esme would help, she was a decent person underneath, it was Olaf, yes, _he_ was the problem. Otherwise why else would Esme volunteer to save Duncan, and do what Violet or any of the others couldn't do, which was talk Olaf down. “Okay, yes, whatever you say just please, don't let Olaf harm him again,” Violet agreed, a thankful breath pouring from her chest. 

Esme pushed Violet behind her, putting herself between Olaf and the Hook Handed Man, and Violet. “Once we’re done here you’ve got a bit of explaining to do yourself,” stated Esme, gripping Violet by the shoulders and positioning her back a few steps, enough that she wouldn’t be able overhear when she was going to say to Olaf. The Quagmire boy would hear of course, but if Esme manipulated things just right, Violet wouldn't believe him anyway. 

She need to break these bonds between Violet and the others, if she was going to have Violet all to herself. Winning her affection and attachment was done, but it existed only in a bubble, when they were alone. Esme knew she had to split them up and make Violet believe her over them, and letting Olaf smash the boys hand to pieces wouldn't do that. Violet had to believe she tried, and if she did manage to stop Olaf then all the better, Violet would see her as her saviour, _Duncans_ saviour.

“Me?” questioned Violet, letting Esme put her where she wanted without protest. 

Esme gave her a look. “Darling as smashing as you look in it, you are wearing one of my cocktail dresses.” Her finger waggled up and down indicating the beautiful teal green dress Violet still had on from Olaf’s rehearsing. “And you have a split lip. Don't think thats escaped my notice.” Esme frowned over her shoulder at Olaf, guessing exactly where it came from. “What did you do to earn that?” 

“It doesn’t matter right now…” Violet leant to the side anxiously checking what state Duncan was in. Esme needed to help _now,_ not keep talking. She was certain there would be reprisals for the bruised lip Olaf had rewarded her disobedience with, but right now she was only concerned about Duncan. 

Esme sighed, rolling her eyes at the girls sentimentality. _Fine._ She ran her tongue along her teeth and said sternly, “You don't move from the spot do you understand?” Esme pointed at the floor between Violets feet. 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” She spun on her heels, clapping her hands together and swung her hips in a catwalk style wander over to Olaf, the Hook Handed Man and poor Duncan. “Dearest Darling love of my life,” Esme cooed in a honey-sweet voice, smoothing her hand up Olaf’s back and drawing his gaze to her. 

“You’re ruining my villainous mood my sweet. We can celebrate later, with banana daiquiri’s and victory dancing but right now I’m being villainous; - and this boys hand is going to pour red rubies,” Olaf’s eyes twinkled. “- not the blue sapphires I want but that will come later.” 

Esme pursed her lips, Olaf proving yet again he didn't respect her. “Banana Daiquiris aren't _in_.” Flicking a still perfect wave of hair from her forehead in an all-too-fashionable fashion, she continued to walk her fingers up his back to the nape of his neck, squeezing gently. Violet felt a pang of jealousy watching Esme being affectionate with him. “But you’re quite within your rights to do so Darling, and I don't really care whats he's done to put you in this mood - “

“He slipped a note in to the post-bag of that cycling newspaper boy to deliver to the outside world, alerting the police or unassuming member of the public to our terrible scheme,” Olaf burst, repeating the accusations out loud making him angrier again with Duncan, and taking a fistful of Duncan’s warm brown hair, struck his face against the side of the dinner table. Duncan groaned tearfully, blood springing from his nose as a deep purple bruise formed quickly under the skin. He stared miserably at his lap, the droplets of blood from his nose plopping in little circular stains on his trousers. “Therefore, once I’m done he wont have any usable hands at all. Certainly not for writing notes, anyway.” 

Violet screwed her eyes shut and sat on her hands, tucking them between her thighs and calves where she sat on her knees, quietly begging Esme to succeed. She couldn't hear all of what they were saying, mostly just Olaf’s irate outbursts.  

“And I’d usually advocate for people keeping their hands but its what the Boss wants so,” The Hook Handed Man shrugged cheerfully, his mood out of sync with the rest of the room. 

Esme glared at him for the unhelpful interruption, edging her foot away from Olaf and Duncan just a tad, concerned the falling drips of blood could get on her shoe. “Yes but have you stopped to think for two _tiny seconds_ what will happen once you break all the bones in his hand? Which - you know of course there are better ways to do; slam the door on his knuckles for example I don't know _why_ you're messing around with my vase,” wittered Esme, talking at extraordinarily high speed. “But then we will have a _useless Orphan_ , that we're still required to feed and water and yet cant do anything for us. No chores, no cleaning, I mean what does a deformed hand-freak do without his hands anyway? Won’t they all heal at wonky angles?” 

“I don’t care if they do!” Olaf roared. She was beginning to get irritating, all this talking instead of just letting him get on with it. She was getting in the way now as much as Violet had been. He hoisted the vase back into the air though it was a bit of a struggle, ready to strike should his patience were out. 

The Hook Handed Man smiled, being able to be helpful kept him cheerful. “I know a really good hook shop - “

“But I’m paying to house and feed these brats I want something in return. And he’ll be useless to me,” Esme jabbed her finger towards Duncan, cautiously peering up at the vase in mid air and making sure she wasn’t standing underneath it, ignoring the Hook Handed Man as if he were not even there. Olaf never saw the practical, never saw the day-to-day. _Lets kidnap some Orphans and make ourselves a fortune! You can of course, finally my pet pursue revenge on the Baudelaires! Beatrice stole your Sugar Bowl -_ Esme pressed her eyes shut and shook her head at her own naivety. She wondered if he had simply exploited her need for cold hearted slightly over-zealous revenge to further his own schemes, inadvertently landing her with 5 Orphans to feed and clothe, too late to even use them as accessories. Orphans were _out_ long ago. 

“So what, you want me to stop?” Olaf looked up at the vase, then looked at her, incredulous and confused. “Thats unlike you.”

“I’m not telling you to stop my Darling I wouldn't deprive you especially when the boy _does_ deserve it … I’m simply saying concentrate on one hand, and leave the other.” She clapped her hands together, satisfied with her plan. “That way he's still suitably maimed and tortured, while having one working hand left to scrub my floors with.” 

Olaf’s monobrow frowned. “That does sort of make sense.”

She grinned, delighted. “It does doesn’t it. I may look like just a pretty face but I’m not; I’m a pretty face _aaand_ terribly intelligent and clever.” So clever, she mused; that Olaf would credit her with finishing the punishment while keeping the boy able to work, and Violet would think she had single-handled saved Duncans single hand. Esme smirked at the hilarity of it all.  

“I think intelligent and clever mean the same thing,” The Hook Handed Man piped up with a confused sort of expression. 

“No-one was talking to you,” Esme snapped. 

He nodded. “Right-o.”

“Oh fine, this vase is rather heavy anyway.” “Hooky slam his hand in the door then take him downstairs, his tears are ruining the rug.”  

“Ohhh you're right.” Esme gawped at the ruffled fibres of the rug where Duncan had been held, now up on his feet and being dragged towards the door. “Now _thats_ a tragedy; this rug was hand woven by some blind nuns in Peru, thats why all the colours are messed up but the King of Arizona told me its very _‘in_ ’ so I can’t have it ruined with Orphan tears.” Esme prattled on to no-one in particular, Olaf already distracted with finding something to drink now The Hook Handed Man was taking care of the boy and the hand-smashing. 

Duncan struggled and fought back, his hand already trembling from the likely nerve damage, as he flung his good arm out trying to grasp on to each dining table chair that they passed, slow him down and give himself - and Violet time to invent an on-the-spot solution. “Violet - Violet!” He screamed, his cries for help forcing her to swallow the guilt of being unable to help, unable to _move_. She blinked through her tears as she curled over into a ball, weeping in to her hands. “Noo!” She heard him scream again, the _whoosh_ of the heavy wooden door colliding on his knuckles and cracking them. The Hook Handed Man dropped Duncan to the floor, who whimpered and rolled around cradling the fragmented broken bones to his chest protectively. 

Violet didn't dare look.

“His screaming really gives me a headache.” Esme complained quietly, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. 

Olaf’s ears pricked, and gave a purposeful unimpressed wave at the Hook Handed Man to get the boy out of here, lest he harm the sensitive ear drums of his beloved girlfriend. 

Esme wandered back to Violet finally, crouching down and getting her attention with a gentle stroking of her cheek, wiping away the girls tears with her thumb. “I’m sorry my Darling,” she apologised, her voice lightly melodic and calming. “I did my best, I convinced him to leave one hand intact. It was the best I could do, Count Olaf is really … unreasonable.” Esme encouraged Violet to her feet as she sniffed. Violet glanced guiltily at Duncan, who this time wasn’t fighting when he was hauled to his feet and removed from the room. “You’ll be able to straighten those bones anyway wont you, if I give you the right medical materials I’m sure your clever brain can invent something?” She took Violets hand in her own, patting the top of her hand comfortingly. 

“A splint,” Violet mumbled, nodding. Had she been a coward? Should she have tried to help more? She trusted Esme, and the woman had done her best - managing to convince Olaf to stop was virtually impossible, what did she have to bargain with? Nothing. Olaf was all about the manipulation, the control, _would you consider perhaps, marrying me during tomorrow nights performance?_ She heard his voice in her head, though it had been years, she could still recall how he had framed it as a choice, her choice to agree and save her sisters life. Violet knew better than most how unreasonable Count Olaf was, and even if Esme had started out participating and helping him, capturing both the Quagmires and her siblings in her Ersatz Elevator; it didn't mean she hadn’t changed. 

She hoped the others would understand. 

“Exactly.” Esme smiled. Things had turned out, _perfectly_. “And talking of splits - “ Esme walked Violet over to where Olaf was helping himself to the drinks cabinet, unscrewing caps off things and giving them an unconvinced sniff, before tossing back a gulp of each one. Deciding he liked the taste of a particular green tinted substance, he took the bottle by the neck and was about to walk off with it until he turned and realised Esme was standing right behind him, Violet in tow.

Esme pointed her shiny fingernail at the lightly bruised cut on Violets lower lip. “Does one of you want to explain to me how _this_ , happened?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked really hard on getting Olaf and Esme's comedic sort of bantering/arguing to sound just right; they have such a fantastic script on the show/ book thats really quick witted so I hope it comes across in character.
> 
> Also I purposefully kept Violet out of earshot from Esme's conversation with Olaf - this was important because then she hasn't heard what Esme really said, when Duncan has. She can only then go by what Esme said happened, whom she believes and trusts; she's in love with her pretty much now. She sits back because she trusts Esme to help, and I think that is really starting to take hold in her now. 
> 
> So this will create tension later when she is confronted by Duncans side of the story. 
> 
> Eventually, ultimately, Violet will have to choose. 
> 
> And so will Esme. Ahhh the tension. Hope you all enjoyed!


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